Albus Potter and the Revelation
by tacobowler
Summary: After graduating from Auror School, Albus is placed in the worst assignment possible. But he soon finds himself caught up in a muggle case involving stolen nuclear weapons. Can Albus find the weapons before it's too late? And can he protect the secrecy of the magical world in the process? Rated T in case.
1. Prologue: Charlotte's Trap

A/N: This story is a sequel to Albus Potter and the Necromancer. However, it is not a second installment. I do not believe that you will need to have read that story to understand this one, other than to understand the relationships between characters. I will attempt to explain some of those relationships and jokes.

I want to thank my beautiful wife for putting up with my fan fiction obsession and for editing this story for me. You are a God send and I love you more than you can know.

Disclaimer for the whole story: I do not own Harry Potter (HP), King's Cross Station, NSync, Will Smith, Scotland Yard, Toe Jam, SIS/MI6, the English Premier League, the British Military and any fictional or real associated places, Boeing, MacGyver, PlayStation/Sony, BBC, the Knesset, The Israel Museum, Silly Putty, Star Wars, Interpol, Save the Whales, Angry Birds, BMW, The American Military, FBI, AFOSI, Liverpool Football, Cracker Barrel, Mountain Dew, Cambridge University, Crown Prosecution Service, Picasso paintings, Star Trek, The Weather Channel, FIFA, The World Cup, the Colosseum, McDonald's, Eye of London, Parliament Building, Tower of London, Five Hour Energy, The New King James Version of the Bible, Protection Command, anything involving the Royal family of Great Britain, London Ambulance or Fire services, Kensington Palace.

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Prologue: Charlotte's Trap

Albus Severus Potter stood on tiptoes in an attempt to find his daughter; Charlotte Molly Potter. Charlotte, the first child for him and his wife Ashley, was by far his favorite child. Just don't tell that to their son Regulus. Regulus was with his mother at muggle school for career day. Of course, Ashley worked at the Ministry of Magic, in the Minister's office. Albus wondered what she would say her career was and what the reaction to that was going to be.

The gleaming scarlet engine of the Hogwarts Express rolled into Platform 9 3/4 at exactly five o'clock as scheduled. Students were leaning out of the windows on both sides of the train and everyone was screaming and waving. Albus looked for Charlotte's face in the crowd, but he couldn't find her.

Students were flooding the platform from every compartment, frantically searching for their parents, brothers and sisters. Albus could see in the corner of his eyes scenes of students hugging siblings. Families were beginning to leave the platform by apparating or going through the barrier. As the crowd thinned, it made finding people much easier. Finally, Charlotte found her father, ran up behind him and almost tackled him.

"Ugh," Albus said, regaining his balance with his daughter hanging from his back. "You found me!"

"Hi Dad!" Charlotte said, letting go and coming around in front of him. "How was the year?"

"Almost unbearable not to have my favorite daughter around," he said, holding her in front of him. "But I managed."

"Ah Dad," she said, giving him a heart felt hug. "Where's mom?"

"With Reg," he said. "She is planning on meeting us at home. She's making your favorite Enchilada Casserole."

"YEA!" Charlotte said, letting her father go.

Albus grabbed Charlotte's trunk and the two of them walked through the barrier and into King's Cross Station. "What do you say to some ice cream?" Albus asked his daughter.

"What's the catch?" she asked, smiling playfully at him.

"Catch?" Albus asked in mock surprise.

"You offering ice cream? There's got to be a catch," she said.

"Well, you have to tell me about your year..." Albus began.

"All about it?" Charlotte asked.

"All about it," Albus confirmed.

"Ok," Charlotte said.

The two soon found themselves sitting in the patio seating of their favorite downtown London ice cream parlor. They both were quickly eating a triple stacked cone, which was melting very quickly before Albus got up and got a couple bowls in which to put their strawberry and vanilla soup (which is what the ice cream had become). Soon they were able to talk.

"So how was school?" Albus asked.

"Hogwarts is amazing!" Charlotte exclaimed. "So, I got sorted into Gryffindor. Mom said she was so proud of that! And I met this amazing girl in my year, and we became best friends and we got in a lot of trouble, but that was still ok, and I still got a lot of Outstandings and Exceeds Expectations and, yeah. Why are you laughing at me."

"It seems like you had a really good time," Albus said.

"Yeah, I certainly did," Charlotte said.

"Professor Weasley kept us well informed of all that trouble you got in," Albus said.

Charlotte's face dropped. "I'm sorry Dad," she said.

"You're mother said that it's evidence you're living up to the family name," Albus said, winking as she looked up.

"Dad," Charlotte pleaded. "You scared me, stop it!"

"Sorry?" Albus said once he stopped laughing. That got both of them laughing some more.

"So, didn't you miss me?" Albus asked.

"Not too much. Professor Longbottom kept making sure I felt at home."

"How is Professor Longbottom?" Albus asked.

"Old," Charlotte responded.

"Old," Albus asked. "He's only, what, 60..."

"That's old Dad," Charlotte said. "But he's pretty cool, I guess. I did miss story time though."

"Story time?" Albus asked sarchastically.

"Yeah," Charlotte said. "When you would sit with me and tell me all those great stories about the past."

"Oh, those times." Albus said. "I missed those too."

"Could you tell me one now?" Charlotte asked shyly.

Albus smiled, "Sure," he said. "Which story would you like me to tell you?"

"Tell me the story about how Grandfather died," she said. "The whole story, not the rated G version."

"Can you handle the whole story?" Albus asked.

"Dad," Charlotte said. "I'm almost 13 already. When are you going to stop treating me like a child."

"Almost 13? You're birthday is over 6 months away!"

"Dad, please?" Charlotte said, adding as much guilt as her mother had taught her.

Albus melted in his daughter's gaze. "Ok, the whole story."

"Yea!" Charlotte said, getting up and scooting next to her father on the bench. "Ok," she said.

"Let's see, I think that story begins when your grandfather was storming that mountain cabin in the Alps-"

"Dad!" Charlotte interrupted, "You promised the whole story!"

"What, that is the whole story," he said.

"No, that's where you always start. You always start with Grandfather and mum and them all charging the cabin. What happens before that? Please." She placed more guilt in her eyes. "I'll let you have some of my casserole tonight."

"Wow, you must really want to know," Albus said. "Alright. Well, perhaps this story begins on a dark, stormy morning."

"The best stories always do," Charlotte said.

Albus laughed. "That they do. Well, this particular morning was a Wednesday morning in August, 2027. I had just graduated from Auror school and was on my way to work when your uncle James called me and completely ruined my day. He has a talent for that, you know..."


	2. Chapter 1: Scorpius' Information

A/N: Many thanks to Vixen's Shaddow, LightYew103, nightelf82, Sopphires, and traviswj for either favoriting or following this story. If I missed you, I apologize!

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Chapter 1: Scorpius' Information

Albus Potter emerged from his London Suburban home and waited on the porch for his wife Ashley. He was tall, almost six feet, and he'd been told he was less than handsome. He had flaming red hair that never stayed down no matter what he did to it. He also had deep green eyes which, when combined with his hair, made him look like a living Christmas card. His brother often said he had an almost nerdy look about him. He usually cursed James when he did, which was bad considering those curses could actually happen. Albus Potter was a wizard, as was his entire family including James. Of his living relatives, only his aunt Hermione and his wife Ashley didn't have magical blood running back generations. His wife appeared after checking on their new nine-month-old baby and he gave her a quick peck good bye before heading to work. She produced a small, brown bag and gave it to him.

"My favorite?" he asked.

"Peanut Butter and Jelly," she said. He gave her a kiss on the lips. "I still don't understand why you have to drive, Al" she said.

"I told you, I have to take Muggle transportation," Albus said. "I have a cover to keep."

"But you could apparate close to the office and then walk in," she said. "London is dangerous. I worry every time you get behind the wheel."

"Ash," Albus said, putting as much compassion into his voice as possible. "I have a magical car. It is impossible for anyone to hit me, it will just slip beside them."

"I know, but I still worry," she said.

"I'll see if Dad will move me," he said.

"Al, you know he won't," she said. "At least not for a little while. Just, be careful, ok?"

"Ok," he said. Then he got into his car.

"God must have spent, a little more time, on you," the radio played once the car was turned on.

"Ah," Albus said. "Oldies."

The London traffic had definitely not improved in the last twenty years. Albus traveled a whole two miles before he had to pull up behind a line of about six cars at a red light. Somehow though, his car was first in line by the time the light turned green. The next light turned green as he approached, giving the cars in front of him just enough time to start moving before he got there.

Albus was crossing London Bridge when the music was interrupted by a phone call. "Answer," Albus said. The car responded.

"Hello," Albus said.

"Hey, bro," James Potter said on the other end of the line. Albus' brother was older than he was technically, but he hadn't quite grown past seventeen in maturity. Today he didn't quite sound right.

"You just interrupted 'Getting Jiggy With It,'" Albus said. "You'd better have a good reason for it."

"Come on now, bro, get with the times," James said. "That was so 1990's. That's Dad's music."

"Which I happen to like," Albus said, turning onto New Kent Road. "What do you want?"

There was a noise in the background which was suspiciously high pitched. "What makes you think I want something?" James asked.

"You always want something," Albus said.

"Well, there is one thing you could do for me," James said.

Albus sighed. "What is it?"

"Scorpius just called, wants to talk with me," James said, giggling.

"So why don't you go talk with him?" Albus asked.

"Why don't you mind your own business?" James asked back. "I have prior commitments. Besides, it's probably just gossip again. Please?"

"Does this prior commitment have to do with the girl in the background?" Albus asked.

"What girl?" James asked, a little too quickly. Albus said nothing. "Ok, yes."

"You're unbelievable," Albus said.

"Is that a yes?" James asked.

"I can't, I have to get to the Yard," Albus said. "Perhaps you've forgotten, but I have a real job to keep."

"Please bro, I'll owe you one," James pleaded.

"You already owe me about three," Albus said.

"I'll owe you four then," James said. "And I'll take care of the Yard for you."

"You promise?" Albus said.

"Yup," James said.

"Fine," Albus said. "But if you don't deal with it, you're dead."

"Thanks, you're a lifesaver," James said.

"Yeah, yeah," Albus said. "Where am I going?"

"Jeffery's pub," James said.

Thirty minutes later, Albus was walking down a lonely sidewalk in a London suburb toward the corner where an almost empty Jeffery's pub stood. For a meeting place, it wasn't the best choice, but Albus went with it. He stopped at the corner and looked both ways to cross the street, and quickly changed course. Across from the pub was an old church that was just beginning to show signs of neglect, but that wasn't what had gotten Albus' attention. Behind the church was a small graveyard, clearly overflowing. Kneeling in the graveyard was a young man that Albus recognized.

Albus crossed the corner and entered the graveyard. As soon as he entered the gate, he realized that this was not an ordinary graveyard. There was a tingle down his spine at the barrier, a sign of magical enchantments. Once inside, the graveyard extended further with every step until the graves were no longer huddled together and there were several yards of undisturbed grass on all sides. The church was nowhere to be seen.

The young man was still kneeling at a grave. He was twenty-two, strong in appearance, with white-blonde hair and perfect complexion. He was a man that Albus should hate, but circumstances had brought them together while at Hogwarts. Albus Potter had become best friends with Scorpius Malfoy.

Scorpius was kneeling in front of a fresh grave, still brown and not yet level with the surrounding grass. There was a double headstone at the top of the grave, but Albus didn't get close enough to read it yet. Instead he stood a few feet back and waited for Scorpius to acknowledge him.

"You're earlier than expected," Scorpius said without looking up.

"James told me to come right over," Albus said.

That got Scorpius to look up. "I specifically asked for James," he said.

"So did someone else," Albus said. "He asked me to meet with you for him."

"I'd rather talk to you anyway," Scorpius said, looking back at the grave. Albus took it as an invitation to walk closer. "I thought you were assigned to the Yard though."

"I am," Albus said. "It's good to have a morning off. I didn't go through three years of Auror School to shove papers all day."

Albus got close enough to read the headstone.

Lucius Malfoy

1954-2027

A good man in the end

"You need to let it go my friend," Albus said, placing his hand upon Scorpius' shoulder. "He's gone."

"He was all I had, after Dad died," Scorpius said.

"Your father died a hero," Albus said. "And the headstone is right; Lucius was a good man in the end. And you'll always have family in us."

"It's not the same," Scorpius said. Albus let the pause last. "You know," Scorpius said, "he spent his whole life trying to prove we're better than muggles. He died with his grandson proving him wrong."

"There was nothing you could have done, Scorpius," Albus said.

"I should have!" Scorpius said, his voice rising. "I'm a healer. I should have been able to heal him. It's my job!"

"It was cancer!" Albus said. "No one can cure that, not even you."

"There's a cure out there Albus," Scorpius said. "One day, I'm going to find it. One day…one day…one."

Albus softened and Scorpius crumpled into his friend's arms. "I miss him," he said after a long time. Albus patted him on the back. "I let him down, I let him die to a muggle disease."

"It's a human disease," Albus said. "Muggle and magic alike."

"I guess," Scorpius said, composing himself.

"You are a great wizard," Albus said. "And you will be a great healer."

"I'm not as great as you," Scorpius said. "You defeated the darkest wizards of the last three ages while still a student."

"You are a great wizard," Albus repeated. "We could not have defeated Grindelwald without you and it was your spell that defeated Travers. Combined with the fact that your father put the finishing touches on Voldemort, the Malfoy family hasn't had more to be proud of in years, maybe ever. The Malfoy family can hold its head high because of you. Lucius went to the grave knowing that. Don't be too hard on yourself. Grieve, but don't blame."

Scorpius nodded. "Thanks," he said.

"Come on, let me buy you a drink," Albus said.

Albus brought two beers over to a table in the corner of Jeffery's pub, where Albus hoped they wouldn't be overheard. James may have thought it was stupid, but he never took chances. The bar was not well lit at night, but it had many windows, which let in a large amount of sunlight during the day. The bar was packed with tables and had an empty stage on the far end with banners all around advertising who would be playing there this week. Albus saw a banner for Toe Jam and made a mental note to come back Tuesday night.

The bar was relatively empty. Albus and Scorpius sat in the corner while three poor-looking men sat at the bar hitting on the female bartender. A few tables down from the two wizards were two businessmen deep in conversation and a woman with a hijab hiding most of her body was enjoying a meal next to the stage. Otherwise, it was empty.

"Toe Jam on Tuesday," Scorpius said once Albus sat down.

"I saw," Albus said.

"Want to come?" Scorpius asked.

"Maybe," Albus said. "I've got a baby to take care of first."

"Right," Scorpius said. "What is it that you do at Scotland Yard exactly?"

"Push papers," Albus said, not hiding the distaste. "It's entry level and Dad has put both James and me there when we first got hired to avoid favoritism. We go undercover at Scotland Yard as a filer and look through the cases for anything that looks like it might be magical in nature. Then we report our findings to the Auror office and they conduct the investigations while we go back to more files at the Yard."

"Sounds terrible," Scorpius said.

Albus grunted in agreement. "So, why did you call James?" he asked. "You said you had some news."

"I don't know if it's news," Scorpius said. "But it certainly is interesting. If he's right, an investigation is needed."

"Harry will decide that," Albus said. "What you got?"

"A man came in a couple days ago," Scorpius said.

"To St. Mungo's?" Albus asked.

"Yeah," Scorpius said. "He was complaining about a chronic illness that had only been getting worse, despite heavy medication. We decided to admit him, run some tests and watch him overnight."

"What happened?" Albus asked.

"The next morning his hair began to fall out," Scorpius said. "Almost like loose sod. We weren't sure what was going on so we began to do some prodding, to question him."

"Get anything good?" Albus asked.

"No, he shut up like a clam," Scorpius said. "Until he asked us if he was going to die."

"What did you tell him?" Albus asked. "And isn't revealing this like against the law or something?"

"Not when national security is at risk," Scorpius said. "We told him that if he didn't help us, he would die. He opened up at that point."

"Did you save him?" Albus asked, taking a drink.

"No," Scorpius said. "Maybe if he'd told us sooner, but by then there was nothing we could do."

"And yet you think you could have saved your grandfather," Albus said.

"That's different," Scorpius said.

Albus shrugged. "What did he tell you?"

"He had been hired recently by a man whose name he didn't know to steal nuclear warheads from the British Army," Scorpius said. "The man needed him to magically enter, cover and then transport the weapons from a high security basement. He said that something went wrong when he was getting one of the weapons ready and was afraid of radiation poisoning. A few short tests later confirmed his diagnosis."

"Nuclear warheads?" Albus said, half to Scorpius, half to no one in particular. "You sure?"

"No," Scorpius said. "He wasn't under the effects of Veritaserum at the time, he could have lied. For all we know he was a terrorist building a dirty bomb or a wannabe mad scientist. But considering that he died from radiation poisoning, I think it's definitely possible."

"Well, if he's right, it definitely needs to be investigated," Albus said. "But, there has not been a report of any weapons missing from the Army. I'll keep an eye out though, and I'll let Harry know."

"Thanks," Scorpius said.

"Anytime," Albus said. "Keep in touch." Then both men set off to return to work.


	3. Chapter 2: Scotland Yard

A/N: Many thanks to Kitty Qin and ladyrayne13 for adding me and the story! Readers are my motivation.

Chapter 2: Scotland Yard

Originally, Scotland Yard was a central police station for London's Finest that was actually built on Great Scotland Yard, a local street. Now, that station is used for small things and the main station is at a much larger, more centralized location called "New Scotland Yard." Of course the people still call it Scotland Yard. Albus pulled into the parking lot of the beautiful, glass sided building that housed his department and silently prayed that James had remembered to adjust the memory of the director to make him "remember" that he had told Albus to come in late today. Director Walter Hawthorne was a likable man, but no one crossed him and showing up four hours late would count as crossing him.

Albus parked in a spot about as far from the building as possible and got out of his car. He looked at his watch: it was past noon. Even if James had done his job, there really was only about three minutes left before he was in trouble. He looked around, made sure no one was nearby, and turned. He reappeared in a shadow near the door, straightened his clothes and walked inside.

The security man always looked at him strangely when he pulled his wand out of his suit pocket. He had even asked Albus what it was once. Albus had told him it was an ancient good luck charm. He didn't ask again, but still gave the funny look every morning. This morning was no different, but Albus managed to get through and run up to his office. He opened the door just as the clock struck one.

The main office was a neat, orderly room with six desks placed in rows facing the far wall. It reminded Albus of muggle in school suspension. He never understood why his father had made him attend muggle school at all; he had to know weird stuff was going to happen that would land them in trouble. And the majority seemed to happen around Albus. Each desk in the room had three filing cabinets, each on a forklift for easy transportation. The people who worked here had the job of looking at each of the files in one of the cabinets in turn, ensure that there are no inaccuracies and then file them in another cabinet. Once the first was empty, they called a mover in and used the empty one to start on the "spare" cabinet. Yup, Albus had spent three years in Auror School learning the incredibly difficult skills necessary to do this. What's more, he had to spend an hour at home everyday magically shifting through the other five employees' work to ensure there wasn't a suspicious file in those. James had placed copying spells on all the cabinets while he was here to ensure they didn't miss anything.

When Albus entered, all six desks were occupied. Five had people shifting through file upon file in a never-ending cycle of boredom. The middle one, Albus' desk, had an older man sitting on the desk, looking back at the doorway. The man was seated comfortably, the first touches of gray hinting in his black hair. He obviously was once one of the most fit agents the Yard had, but he hadn't been in the field for years and was beginning to show the effects of years of drinking. His eyes though were as piercing as ever, and they were staring straight through Albus. Clearly, James hadn't done his job.

"You're late, Potter," the man said.

"Yes, Director, sorry. It won't happen again," Albus responded.

"You're right it won't," Director Hawthorne said. "My office, now." The man got off Albus' desk, turned and entered the corner office door on the right of the room. Albus followed, setting his bag down on his desk.

"Sit," Hawthorne said once Albus had entered the room. Albus followed the instructions. The Director took a seat behind the large desk. The room was a corner office, with freshly cleaned windows in place of walls. Pictures of the Director's family lined the other two walls alongside certificates, medals and degrees with the Director's name on them. The desk was a corner desk, but rather than being in a corner, it formed an L shape extending from the wall. The arrangement was peculiar, but it made sure there was only one entrance to the back of the desk. A triple-monitored computer was set up on the side closest to the wall, each monitor showing information on a different case the Yard was working on. Bookshelves lined the bare portions of walls, all of them covered side to side with forensics books. But the Director lounged behind his desk with his eyes focused on Albus.

"Sir," Albus said, hoping James was just sloppy. He had nothing to lose. "I wasn't supposed to be here today until noon."

"Don't try that on me, Potter," Hawthorne said. "Your predecessor tried that once, I never trusted him again."

"Predecessor?" Albus said.

"Yes," Hawthorne said. "You're not the first at that desk."

"I'll show myself out then," Albus said.

"No, you sit," Hawthorne said. "What did your contact say?"

"Excuse me?" Albus asked, genuinely stunned for the first time since he last visited Arizona, almost six years before.

"Your contact," Hawthorne repeated. "You've been extraordinarily punctual since you arrived, Potter. I'm assuming that you had a reason to be almost five hours late."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Albus said.

"Like hell you don't," Hawthorne said, leaning forward. "I may be old, but I'm not stupid."

Albus decided to throw caution to the wind. "You know I can't tell you that, Director."

"Excuse me?" Hawthorne said, leaning back again.

"You know I answer to someone else," Albus said.

"You a rogue cop?" Hawthorne said.

"Don't give me that," Albus said. "Walter Hawthorne, Hogwarts class of 1990. You were even Valedictorian. You could have gone on to be anyone you wanted to be, Minister even. Then you had a 'religious experience' and vowed never to touch a wand again. Like you said, you're not stupid. Neither am I. I answer to my father at the Ministry. I cannot tell you that level of information."

Hawthorne studied Albus for several minutes before leaning back and laughing. "You've done your homework," he said. "I'm impressed. You're the first that knew who I was."

"I doubt it," Albus said.

"Yes, yes, your father hires good people, right?" Hawthorne said.

"Am I fired Director?" Albus asked.

"Technically," Hawthorne said. "Yes."

"But?" Albus asked.

Hawthorne turned to a filing cabinet under the side of his desk and opened the top drawer. He filtered through the files and pulled one out from the middle. He held it up, thumbed through the pages inside and threw it down on the desk.

"What is this?" Albus asked.

"A job offer," Hawthorne said. "I heard you were recently fired."

Albus opened the file. "So I was," he said. He looked at the first page, but it was entirely blacked out. Second page was the same, third too. "It's nothing but black lines," he said.

"I'm sorry, but I cannot tell you more until you're sworn to secrecy," Hawthorne said. "Even from your father."

"Sworn to secrecy," Albus said, chuckling. "That bad?"

"Life or death," Hawthorne said. "A matter of national security. But I'll make you a deal, you tell me what your contact said, and I'll tell you what's under those black lines."

Albus laughed and leaned back. "What's so important about this file?"

"What's your assignment here?" Hawthorne said, getting up and walking around the desk. "What does Harry Potter tell you all to do?"

"Research," Albus said. "I go through the files looking for an unexplained case that looks like it might have magical causes."

Hawthorne began to pace behind Albus. "Well then, in order to do your job, you need to know what's under those black lines."

"You think it has magical involvement?" Albus asked.

"It seems that way," Hawthorne said. "I want a wizard investigating, just to be safe."

"So you're turning to an amateur?" Albus said. "I can get you someone from the Ministry. Someone more qualified for a 'life or death' mission."

"I want the wizard who defeated Grindelwald and Voldemort," Hawthorne said. "I still read the Daily Prophet. Your mother writes a great column by the way. I turn to her for all my Quidditch news."

"She has a good subject matter this year. It is a close league. My money's on the Cannons," Albus said.

"So, are you going to tell me what your contact said?" Hawthorne said.

Albus decided to tell some information. "He heard rumors of a plan to steal nuclear weapons from the Army," Albus said.

"Did he think the plan was completed?" Hawthorne asked.

"No," Albus lied. "Now, are you going to read me in?"

"You swearing to secrecy?" Hawthorne asked.

"I will tell whoever needs to know," Albus said. "But I'll be conservative with who knows, make sure it's as few as possible. That's the best I can offer."

Hawthorne stopped pacing slightly to Albus' right. Albus turned to watch him. He sighed. "I guess that's the best I can expect." Hawthorne walked up to the back of his desk and pushed a small button well hidden on the end. Suddenly, steel gates lowered over the walls of windows, clicking into place until the entire wall was covered. "If you would ensure that we are not overheard," Hawthorne said.

"Don't you have a magic button for that?" Albus asked.

"My 'magic button' only covers electronic bugs," Hawthorne said. "If I recall correctly, yours can cover the door too."

Albus grinned. He reached into the pocket inside his suit jacket and pulled a sleek, ivory colored piece of wood from it. The wand was Aspen and flexible with unicorn hair core and eleven inches in length. Aspen wood was the greatest for dueling and Albus had painted the wand during his schooling to hide this from his enemies. In Auror School, he had removed the paint to intimidate them. He was rather proud of his wand. Albus took the wand, pointed the wand at the door and thought _Muffiato. _ He put the wand away.

Hawthorne walked to a bookcase to Albus' left and began scanning the shelves. "Your contact was wrong," he said, deciding upon a book on the third row. He pulled it out, but it didn't come. Instead it pulled down, like a lever. "The plan has already been carried out," Hawthorne continued as the bookcase opened like a door, revealing a palm reader behind it. Hawthorne placed his hand on the reader. "Thirteen nuclear warheads disappeared from a high security vault in a bunker at Fort Charles three weeks ago. Vanished into thin air."

"Why wasn't a case filed?" Albus asked.

"It was," the director said. "But your little tracking charm wouldn't find it."

"How's that?" Albus asked.

The director pulled his hand from the reader. He turned around and gave Albus a smile. "Because there are file cabinets you don't know about." Sure enough, as he said it, the wall beside the palm reader slid up, revealing a large filing cabinet. The Director pulled open the top file and pulled out the first folder. He pushed a button on the reader and everything began to close again. Hawthorne gave the file to Albus and sat back down in his chair. "Welcome to SIS," he said.

"Secret Intelligence Service?" Albus asked.

"Yes," Hawthorne said. "Our best agency on the biggest case."

"If those files never cross our desks, who makes sure they will pass court without a problem?" Albus asked, a little sarcasm entering into his voice.

Hawthorne smiled. "These cases don't go to court."

Albus opened the folder. There were only two things inside, a photo of a man about 60 years old and looking worried along with a badge. "Who's this?" Albus asked.

"Your partner," Hawthorne said. "You'll meet him and destroy the picture. He's been working the case for three weeks. He'll fill you in."

"Yes sir," Albus said, getting up to leave.

"And Albus," Hawthorne said once Albus reached the door. The windows were already opening again. "I hand picked you for this, against the Head of SIS's wishes because I believe you will find the weapons. Don't disappoint me and keep me updated." Albus grinned and left the office.


	4. Chapter 3: Sport

A/N: Many thanks to I Am Book Ninja for following the story and to ladyrayne13 for reviewing.

Chapter 3: Sport

Harry Potter wished for the hundredth time for a broomstick as he climbed what he was sure was the ten millionth stair; the stadium luxury box finally in sight. He stopped, took a deep breath, made mental note not to mention how out of shape he was to Ginny and started climbing again. Once he reached the top level, he turned around and looked back at the field below. The players were barely visible ants moving around on the ground. How were these seats the best seats in the house? He'd understand if it was Quidditch.

Harry looked around, the giant bowl of the stadium extending out in front of him. The top level led to several seats where the poor muggles were screaming and chanting their heads off. The other direction led to a guarded door, which Harry assumed was locked as well, on the side of a massive, closed in "box." Harry approached the door slow enough to avoid startling the guard.

"Name," the guard said.

"Harry James Potter," Harry said.

The guard pulled up a phone and scanned a list on the phone. Once he found Harry's name, he nodded and pulled out a key, unlocking and opening the door. "Welcome, Mr. Potter, you are in Box Four," he said, bowing as Harry entered the box. Harry thanked him, adjusting his ill-fitting suit as he walked into the back hallway of the luxury box section of the stadium. Harry hadn't had to wear muggle clothes in a long time, he was sure that the suit had shrunk in the two years since he'd worn it last. Yeah, that was it: it shrunk.

He reached the door of box four and opened the door. The room consisted of two floors, a large upper floor which had a couple of small tables with chairs and what appeared to be a room service menu, a personal soda machine, and televisions on each wall, showing the game below. A railing and small set of stairs separated it from the thinner lower level. This lower lever housed six cushioned chairs facing a glass wall, which separated the occupants from the stadium below. The glass wall was showing the game on the ground like a giant television. Two more televisions hung from the ceiling, because after all, there wasn't any way the occupants could see the game from this high up. One of the chairs was occupied by a brown haired man, Harry's age, who was sipping a glass of fine wine. A bottle of water sat on the floor at his feet.

"Enjoy your climb Harry?" the man asked without getting up or turning around. Harry sat down next to him.

"I'm hoping that the dead cannot read our thoughts," Harry said.

"Why?" the man asked, turning toward Harry.

"Because I don't want my mother to know all the curses I'm thinking at you right now, Seamus," Harry said.

"I'll bet," Seamus said between laughs.

"How'd you get up here so fast?" Harry asked.

"There's an elevator to the back hallway," Seamus said.

"And why didn't you tell me that?" Harry asked.

"Well, where would the fun be in that?" Seamus asked.

Harry chuckled. "Happy Birthday," he said.

"Thanks," Seamus said. "You bring me a present?"

"I can't bring it in here," Harry said. "It takes some magic to set up and I didn't know if we'd be alone or not."

"Always the secrecy," Seamus said.

"Yeah," Harry said. "I had to state my name at that guard door. Never have to do that in our world. I've saved the world, my son has saved the world and some man asks 'what's your name?' There are times I wonder if all this secrecy is healthy."

"Or you just want to be famous more often," Seamus said.

"I don't ever want to be famous," Harry said. "But there are times it is beneficial."

"Right," Seamus said. "Want some wine?"

"Sure," Harry said. Seamus conjured a glass and poured some of his water into it. He gave the glass to Harry and shifted to point his wand at it. "Wait," Harry said. "How do I know you can do this without blowing my face off?"

"I did it for my glass didn't I?" Seamus said.

"You're using George's cup that does it for you," Harry said, pointing to the massive W on the side of the glass. Seamus shrugged and let Harry transform it himself.

Harry looked up at one of the televisions showing twenty-two men running around a large, well-kept field, trying to kick a little black and white ball around and get it into a net. One man protected each net, with the net about ten times his size, yet no one seemed able to get the ball into the net. "What do you see in this game, anyway?" Harry asked.

"It's the Beautiful Game," Seamus said.

"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder," Harry said.

"And I behold it is beautiful," Seamus said. "Every minute matters in this game, anyone can score at any time and it might be the only goal. You can't look away for even a minute."

"There'd be more goals if they used their hands," Harry said.

"Well, we could just put a diamond out there and make finding it worth 150 points," Seamus said.

"That would work too," Harry said, smiling at the jibe. "Or just add broomsticks."

"That's polo," Seamus said. "Different game."

"Not that kind of broomstick," Harry said.

"Right," Seamus said. "Well, no one would stay in these stands if we introduced that kind of broomstick."

"True. Again, sometimes I wonder if all this secrecy is a good thing. Other times I'm quite sure it is," Harry said. "I have to deal every week with some muggle who has seen magic. Every time it's the same story: the scared and paranoid muggle that can't deal with the fact that their little, naive world has been changed. Often I get attacked by baseball bats or worse. And I have to wipe out their lives, often several days worth of their lives that they will never get back. No, it's not good. And yet the reaction is always the same: fear, anger and violence. I guess the secrecy is needed."

"That's deep," Seamus said.

"I've had some time to think about it," Harry said. "I guess I understand the fear. I mean, wizards burned London in 1666, we've oppressed them for years and years and years. Voldemort destroyed their towns and buildings, and we 'put them in their rightful place' for almost a year. Even during Albus' war, we almost destroyed London again. They have right and reason to be afraid of us."

"Maybe we can change all that," Seamus said.

"Oh, come on," Harry said. "You really think muggles will ever be able to accept us? I mean really accept us, magic and all?"

"I continue to have hope," Seamus said. "We're not as foreign to them as you think. Our story is present throughout their stories, our villains are their villains. I mean, Merlin is their hero too. Fairy godmothers have a special place in their hearts, Disney is full of wizards, fairies and genies. Unicorns, dragons, giants, centaurs, sphinxes…all of them have their place in muggle mythology. Their children dress up as witches for costume parties. It wouldn't be that far of a leap to then say that some of that is actually real. Even their religions are full of sorcery and magicians - "

"Usually the magicians are the bad guys in their religions," Harry interrupted.

"They can be," Seamus said. "I suppose it would depend a great deal upon how they came to awareness."

"What do you mean by that?" Harry asked, taking a sip of his wine.

"Well, if the first wizard they met was Voldemort: someone who was killing them and destroying their villages and bridges. The reaction would probably be much worse than if the first wizard they met was Dumbledore trying to help them and convince them we're not all bad," Seamus said. "And what their leaders do will matter more than anything."

Harry thought for a while before saying, "Dumbledore killed his share of muggles too. Perhaps there isn't a wizard who could be trusted to unmask us."

"I don't think you give yourself enough credit," Seamus said. "I was kind of thinking you could do it."

Harry looked back in genuine surprise. "Me?" he said softly. "I couldn't...I wouldn't know where to start or how to do it."

"I'm not suggesting that you should," Seamus said. "Only that, if such a situation arose where we had no choice but to reveal ourselves, you could find a way to make sure it was good for us."

"I'm not that smart," Harry said. Seamus' response was cut off by Harry's phone ringing. He pulled out the small, ancient looking phone and flipped it open. It was the only phone which could work in severely magical areas like the ministry or Hogwarts. Hermione had created it before leaving to become Headmistress at Hogwarts and she'd refused to take time off to update the Ministry's phones. "Albus," he said to Seamus. "Work calls."

"Keep using that ancient thing and they'll know something's very weird about you for sure," Seamus said, holding in a laugh. Harry said "Hello, this is Potter" as he waved a quick good bye to Seamus and headed for the exit, this time determined to find this mythical elevator.


	5. Chapter 4: Complications

A/N: This is posted hastily. I will thank by name next chapter. I'm sorry.

Chapter 4: Complications

Albus walked calmly out of Scotland Yard and into the beginnings of a windy storm. He rolled his eyes at the encroaching clouds. He pulled a cell phone out of his pocket and flipped it open, dialing the number assigned to speed dial one and placed the phone to his ear as he started to walk to his car. For once he was thankful to be at the back of the large parking lot.

The phone was an older model, one Albus would certainly not pick out for himself to use, way too big and bulky. And not a smart phone either. Even the dumb phones now days had more memory and data speed than Albus could possibly ever use. This phone had nothing, and it did nothing except make phone calls. It also was the most advanced phone that Albus owned. Years ago, when his father was redesigning the auror department with current Headmistress of Hogwarts Hermione Weasley, Hermione had determined a way to get a phone to work inside the most magical of locations. An auror could be standing in the middle of the Chamber of Secrets and, using a magical connection, contact any other auror instantly. Significant improvement over finding and sending an owl.

Harry picked up on the other end. "Hello, this is Potter."

"So's this," Albus said.

"Albus? Aren't you supposed to be working?" Harry asked.

"About that," Albus said. "There's been a change in plans. You'll need to replace me there."

"What happened?" Harry asked. "What did you do?"

"I did my job, quite unlike my brother," Albus said. "The Director of Scotland Yard has reassigned me. He has a classified case that could be magical. He has ordered me to the case."

"I want someone more experienced," Harry said. "Return to the ministry now."

"I can't," Albus said, getting into his car. He sat idly rather than driving. "He specifically said I had to do it. I'm sorry, I can't tell you more now. It's a matter of national security."

"National security?" Harry asked. "What's going on?"

"Well, if James had done his job, I'm sure you'd have known," Albus said. "I now have been sworn to secrecy and I think the Director was serious when he said he'd kill me if I told."

"No one can tap this line," Harry said.

"No one that we know of. Talk to James, maybe you'll find something."

"You insinuated that James didn't do his job," Harry said. "What happened?"

"He had me meet with a contact for him this morning," Albus said. "It caused me to be late and I was fired from the Yard. I think the Director was waiting for an excuse to fire me so he could move me without detection."

"So I do need to replace you at the Yard?" Harry asked.

"Yes."

"Because of James?" Harry asked again.

"You could say that?" Albus said.

"Good, then I know who will replace you there," Harry said. "I'll have the Director's memory wiped again."

"Don't bother, I don't think it worked last time," Albus said. "He may have sworn off magic, but he knows how to get around it."

"Thanks," Harry said. "Anyone else know?"

"I don't think so, he's still keeping the secret," Albus said. "He'd probably be laughed out of office if he mentioned wizards in their presence."

Harry laughed. "Probably. So, I take it your not coming back in?"

"Not planning on it," Albus said.

"Understood. Well, know that you have friends here if you want to stop by," Harry said.

"Understood," Albus said. "I do have a question though. I'm on this case specifically as a wizard."

"And?" Harry asked.

"How am I supposed to investigate magical possibilities with a muggle around without the muggle knowing?" Albus asked.

Harry responded with silence.

"Dad?"

"Albus, this is tricky. What are you investigating?" Harry asked.

"I can't say."

"Then I guess the decision is yours," Harry said. "The Statute of Secrecy can be violated in situations which are life threatening to any wizard. However, if you're wrong, your career will be over before it starts. You sure you don't want a more experienced wizard on this case?"

"That is not my decision," Albus said. "Love you dad."

"Love you too," Harry said. "And Albus."

"Yes?"

"Be safe, please," Harry said.

"Thanks, you too," Albus said as he hung up the phone and pulled out of the parking lot.

Albus pulled up in his driveway two hours after hanging up with Harry. He placed the car in park and took a deep breath before unbuckling his seat belt and getting out of the car. He grabbed his briefcase and walked inside the house. Albus' house was nothing special, on the outside. But once inside the door, there was something magical about the house if you looked hard enough. All the rooms appeared ordinary enough, but if you compared their dimensions with the outside of the house, you'd realize that there was at least 100 more square feet inside than there should have been. Actually, the house expanded as they needed it to, so it extended as the family expands.

They lived in a muggle neighborhood, so the living room was designed like the muggle rooms on TV. There was a television in the inside wall, which often turned on of its own accord when the neighbors came by. There was a sectional couch along the outside walls and several bookcases with a few muggle books sprinkled on them. There was a child walking toy in one corner and a rug under a large coffee table made from some unfortunate animal. Albus walked straight through the room and turned into the hallway.

Three rooms extended off the hallway. The first was his daughter's bedroom, newly added to the house. Charlotte's room was covered in pink and red, with plenty of things for her to entertain herself with floating magically through the room. Albus had even added some simple spells and math problems written onto the wall and ceiling hoping to get her education started early. He secretly hoped Charlotte would follow him to Ravenclaw. He suspected his wife wanted Charlotte to follow her to Gryffindor. Albus noticed that Charlotte was not in her room as he passed by.

The second room was Albus' personal study. It housed rows upon rows of bookcases filled with the just about every book he could find, anywhere he could find it. There were books from local garage sales and books that he paid hundreds of galleons for at auction. Those books he kept in the secret shelves hidden behind the walls. Today however, Albus was not headed for the study. He needed to change.

The third room was the master bedroom. A king sized bed was the centerpiece of the room, flanked by two ornate night tables and a small ironing board. There was a walk in closet off the right side of the room and a bathroom large enough to service a quidditch team on the left. It was a luxurious, muggle bedroom. Grandpa Weasley would be so proud. Albus headed for the closet and opened a small dresser. He pulled out a small device, non-metal but resistant to breaking and stripped off his shirt, tie and jacket. He opened the device and strapped it to his left arm. The he then grabbed his second wand, a black walnut wand, rigid but bendable. It was 8 1/2 inches and contained a thunderbird feather core. He had bought the wand during his honeymoon to the United States when Ashley had wanted to apparate to someplace more remote. They had both left their wands and anything else magical in England in order to focus on each other. In America, wand salesmen are not as worried about matching the wand to the wizard it picks, but Albus had won the wand's allegiance. He had kept the wand for extra security as an auror.

Albus flexed his left arm and an almost undetectably thin arm extended down with a small claw extended, like the ones that never work in the muggle grabbing machines. The device itself was the secret to Albus' dueling success. He had fashioned it while still a student at Hogwarts. It held the wand in place firmly until needed. When he needed it, he straightened his arm and flexed his muscle. The device then dropped the wand and Albus caught it less than a second later. It had taken a bit to master the timing to catch the wand, but it gave him the fastest draw in the school. It had saved his life a couple of times at Hogwarts, he was hoping it could do the same now. Albus placed the tiny wand inside the claw and it retracted until the wand was held in place, flesh against his left forearm. He grabbed his shirt, unbuttoned the wrists to let the wand have an escape route and then put the shirt and jacket back on. He left the tie off.

Albus left the bedroom and went to find his wife. He didn't have to look far, she was just leaving his daughter's room after setting Charlotte down for a nap. She was an angel from heaven; beautiful, smart, brave and loyal. Everything that was way out of Albus' league. She brushed aside her long brown hair, exposing her sky blue eyes. "You're home early," she said.

"I've been reassigned," Albus said.

"Reassigned? You said you didn't think Harry would do that," she said.

"Not by the Ministry," Albus said. "By the Yard."

"By the Yard?" Ashley asked, walking into the living room. "Why would the Yard reassign a desk clerk."

"Because they knew I wasn't a just a desk clerk," Albus said, following his wife.

"Your cover pushing papers at a muggle office was blown?" Ashley asked.

"Turns out the Director knew about our operation long before I got there," Albus said. "Probably only pretended not to for the other employees. He was a former Hogwarts student, so the name Potter was probably a giveaway."

"You said he swore off magic before Harry did his thing," Ashley said.

"He did, but apparently he still reads the Daily Prophet," Albus said. "Knew all about me."

"What did he assign you to do?" Ashley asked.

"Field work," Albus said. "Top secret, told me I can't even tell Dad."

"You can tell me, Al" Ashley said.

"Ash, I love you, but I can only tell you that it's a matter of national security. Something was taken and we need to get it back like yesterday," Albus said, getting tired of telling the same half truth.

"I can't believe you took that job," Ashley said.

"Well, I didn't really have much choice," Albus said.

"Will you be back by dinner?" Ashley asked, anger creeping into her tone.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Albus asked sharply.

"Well, your family is here," Ashley said. "Are you going to be a part of it or are you going to go chasing after thieves."

"What?" Albus said.

"You heard me," she said.

"This is my job," Albus said. "It's what Potters do. You know how it was when we were chasing Travers and Voldemort. We didn't exactly stop to make sure we were home in time for dinner. I thought you enjoyed that fight."

"Oh yes, kidnapped and killed by old Snakeface," Ashley said. "Enjoyed every minute of it. Okay, I may have enjoyed it before I was taken, but we have a family now. You have a daughter now and she needs a father, preferably alive and present! How dare you put yourself in front of your family!"

"What are you talking about?" Albus said. "I'm doing my job! Don't let the fact you never knew your father color what you think I should do!"

"How dare you!" Ashley said. "That's part of me, of course it colors my opinions! I don't want my daughter to live life without a father! I want you on a desk job, not in the line of fire!"

"It's my job!" Albus said.

"No, Albus Potter, your job is paperwork at Scotland Yard, not chasing thieves! What did they steel anyway?"

"I can't tell you, they'll kill you and me if I do," Albus said.

"I can protect myself," Ashley said.

"Like you did against Voldemort?"

"What?! That was Scorpius' fault," Ashley said. "I can't believe you right now."

"Nukes, okay?" Albus said. "They stole nukes, lots of them. Are you happy now? If I don't chase them down, our daughter could be dead tomorrow. I'm putting my family first by doing this! I love Charlotte and I love you!"

"Maybe it's time you showed it," she said before turning and leaving. Albus sighed and went to Charlotte's room. He walked up to the crib and looked at his daughter's green eyes. They reminded him of his father's, and his for that matter. He kissed his hand and touched his daughter's forehead. Then he returned to the living room. He looked back to see if his wife was watching, but he suspected she was still cooling off in the bedroom. He pulled out his wand from his suit pocket and tapped a small lamp stand. A drawer extended from the bottom of the table. Albus reached into it and pulled out the one thing he despised more than anything else: a 9mm pistol. He only had it because he needed it to hold a cover with a muggle cop, but he still hated guns. He strapped it to his side and yelled "I love you," back to the house before leaving.


	6. Chapter 5: Fort Charles

A/N: I don't have any reviews or favorites in my records. If I missed you, I'm very sorry.

Chapter 5: Fort Charles

Albus pulled his car up beside a guard station inside a long, thick, brick wall with barbed wire on top. He rolled down the window and flashed the badge the director had given him. The guard waved him on through.

The fort was enormous. There were at least fifty buildings scattered throughout the base in no pattern that Albus could readily see. He figured they must have been added over the years wherever they could find room to build. Albus clearly passed by several barracks and a training facility. These buildings had a more logical pattern, lined in four distinct rows surrounded by the barracks in a circular formation.

The road turned around the barracks and toward an old castle on a far hill. The castle was a converted military fort from the 16th century. It was in private hands for over 400 years before the final member of the family died off in 1964. At that point, the castle became the property of the British government and was reconverted into a fort.

As a result of the many hats the castle had worn, it was hardly recognizable anymore. It had several different colors of limestone in use in its towers, walls and cannon holes, many of which were now covered with glass windows and boards. The new cannons were actually mortars, placed in the middle of the castle. Inside the walls should be a grouping of several wooden buildings; leftovers from the building's days as a fort, and then personal home and finally modern military base. The British government had aptly named the base Fort Charles, after the King in the 17th as well as the 21st century.

Albus pulled up and parked in a small parking lot outside the drawbridge/gate of the castle. Standing there waiting for him was a man he'd never met, but that had haunted him all day. He was wearing slacks and a button down shirt, making Albus feel underdressed.

"You're thirty seconds late," the man said as Albus got out of the car and walked up to him, carrying a large briefcase.

"I'm so terribly sorry," Albus said sarcastically.

"Don't mock me," the man said. "This is not a game, boy. Details matter. I'm not sure why they assigned a rookie to this case, but they did, so act the part kid. You got that photo?"

"Yeah."

"Burn it," he said, handing Albus a lighter.

"Now?" Albus asked.

"Ten minutes ago," the man said. "You memorize the photo and destroy it before the meeting. It's a rookie mistake, I'll let it slide."

"Why, thank you," Albus said, taking the lighter and burning the photo. "You are aware that SIS is a publicly acknowledged agency now, right?"

The man laughed. "Some of the agency is acknowledged," he said. "Not this part."

"What's your name?" Albus asked. "The director never told me."

"My real name?" the man asked.

"Yeah."

"Don't know you well enough to trust you with that," he said.

"You don't tell people your real name?" Albus asked, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Not in public. You shouldn't either, we need to decide what to call you here," he said.

"What do they call you?" Albus asked.

"Here I go by Agent Clyde," he said.

"Does that make me Agent Bonnie?" Albus said sarcastically.

"Don't tempt me," the man that went by Clyde said. Albus gave him a smart look. "Perhaps Agent Wormwood."

"Don't like it," Albus said. "How about Agent Riddle?"

"Riddle?" Clyde said. "Who's ever had a last name of Riddle?" He was serious.

Albus searched for a name. "Agent Chang?" he asked.

"That works," Clyde said. "Here he comes."

Albus looked where Clyde was pointing. A man in full camo was emerging from the front door of the castle and walking across the drawbridge. The man was large and imposing and Albus judged from his swagger that he knew it. _Muggles and their assumptions of strength_ he thought. Albus could have him begging for death using only a stick.

"I don't have time for any more of your games, Agent," the General said as soon as he got within earshot. "I've been playing them for three weeks and don't have my bombs back. I need those weapons back from those terrorists."

"I told you, General, we don't know who took these weapons. This, by the way, is Agent Chang. He's new to the case and would like a tour," Clyde said without acknowledging the General's statements.

The General sized Albus up with his eyes and huffed a disapproving grunt before performing a textbook about face and walking back toward the castle. Albus and Clyde assumed they were to follow.

"You don't think it was terrorists?" Albus asked.

"Not his definition of the word," Clyde said.

"Who do you think took them then?" Albus asked.

"Someone who intends to use them," Clyde said. "Not necessarily Muslim extremists though. More likely to be Anglican so they can get into the base easier."

The front doors of the castle opened to a ten-foot-thick brick wall that used to protect the interior from attack. Much of the wall had been carved out for storage or control rooms. The General led straight through the gateway and into the castle interior. Inside the castle walls were seven modern buildings, about the size of a three-bedroom house. At first glance they didn't appear to be anything special.

"All these buildings are connected by an underground maze," Clyde said as they walked toward the central building. "The above ground floors don't house that much, mostly just storage and servers. Bellow ground is the fun part, that's where the base really is."

"The army put their top secret nuclear entrance in this pile of old bricks?" Albus asked.

"And where would you have us put it, Very-Special Agent Chang?" the General asked without looking back.

"Well, maybe the cold war era barracks down the hill," Albus said. "Pretty much anyplace but here."

The General stopped to open the door with his secret code and held it open for the two agents. "That is exactly why it is here," the General said.

Albus walked into the building.

The step that led from outside the building to inside it was a step through time from the Middle Ages to the future. The door opened directly to a hallway that sloped severely downward. The walls of the hallway were imbedded with moving screens that appeared to be touch screens. Many of the screens were showing maps with troop locations of both British and foreign troops on it. Other screens showed video that Albus assumed was live from the actual British and allied troops as they performed their missions and/or stayed at their base. As they moved further down the hall (the General always forcing his way back in front) the screens began to display stranger things: physics equations, historical videos, instructional videos and security footage from hallways that looked a lot like the ones Albus was in. One screen displayed a security clearance message and appeared to be a debriefing screen.

As the screens began to thin out, Albus became aware of the ache in his legs. They had walked a long way, twisting and turning through secure door after secure hallway after secure door. Albus was beginning to come to two conclusions. The first was that he had no clue where he was and no clue how to get back out. The second was that he agreed with the Director: there was no way anyone could have gotten thirteen nukes out of here undetected without magic. The doors would be a major problem for one.

"You weren't kidding it was a maze in here," Albus said as they rounded a corner and entered a hall with no screens.

"Nope, we're close though," Clyde said.

That's when Albus felt it. His hair stood on end, a tingle swept down his neck and into his spine. Goosebumps erupted on his arms and legs and his right hand dropped his briefcase and reached instinctively for his pocket where, thankfully, his wand wasn't where it was supposed to be.

"Agent Chang?" Clyde asked, looking back to where Albus had stopped. Even the General had stopped to look back.

The question brought Albus back to his senses. He made a mental note to return and said "Sorry, thought I had to sneeze." The General turned around again but it didn't look like Clyde bought it. He was looking at Albus as if he was a puzzle to be solved. He held Albus in his gaze for several seconds before he turned to follow the General.

The General turned the corner and opened a massive, metal door. "Here you are," he said as the two agents went through the door. "I'll leave you here. Clyde, you know how to get me to let you out." He proceeded to shut the door.

The room was huge, easily large enough to house a Boeing 747. It was built as a warehouse, ready to host top-secret nuclear warheads (Albus presumed). There were cameras in every imaginable corner of the room and some more on the straight walls and every ten feet along the ceiling. But what struck Albus the most was that the room was completely empty. There was black dust clinging to every imaginable space of touchable wall in the room. Two metal sawhorses with reenforcing bars were established in the far corner of the room, with a large rounded metal ball, at least ten feet in diameter, resting in a holder on top of the sawhorses.

"Didn't the cameras pick up the thieves?" Albus asked setting his briefcase down.

"No," Clyde said. "The video appears just fine until it blinks and the weapons are gone. The Yard said that they must have looped it, but our best geeks couldn't actually hack this system to replicate it. They did say that the system should have reset itself every fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes to move a baker's dozen of those." He pointed to the massive metal ball in the corner.

"That's a nuclear warhead?" Albus asked.

"At the point these were at," Clyde said. "They were designing a new delivery missile that they were hoping would cut the cost of production in half. The ones that were here were very operational cores, just looking for a home. That one is a dud though, only a model."

"Did the thieves leave it?" Albus asked.

"No, the Army brought it in on our first day here. Took fifteen men to move it in and they said they'd have used ten more if it was active. My partner and I tried to move it for a whole day. Didn't get it an inch. I have no clue how they did it."

"What happened to your partner?" Albus asked, moving to examine the ball closer, taking his briefcase.

"He died a couple days ago," Clyde said.

"How did he die, if you don't mind me asking," Albus said.

"I don't mind you asking," Clyde said. "The coroner said it was cardiac arrest, but that's just coroner speak for 'I don't know.'"

"Let me guess," Albus said. "No sign of forced entry, door unlocked, which was probably unusual, no sign of a struggle, body appeared in perfect health apart from the fact that he's dead?"

Clyde looked at him wide-eyed. "How did you know?"

"Lucky guess," Albus said, brushing it off.

"That was no guess," Clyde said, motioning for his gun.

"You don't need your gun," Albus said. "Your partner's death simply confirms the Director's worst suspicions."

"What suspicions? Why did the Director assign you here?" Clyde asked.

"That this was done by a class of criminal you couldn't even dream about; a kind of criminal I know well," Albus said, opening his briefcase. He looked at the vials and bottles of strange liquids and powders that Albus had no clue what to do with. He noticed a black powder that looked like the one scattered around the room. Clyde was watching him closely. He unscrewed the lid and went to dump the powder on the metal ball.

"What are you doing?" Clyde yelled, rushing over to Albus. Albus stopped in mid motion. "That's valuable stuff!"

"I'm using it," Albus said.

"First, you don't just dump it out," Clyde said. "You sprinkle it with this," he said, pulling what looked like a miniature duster out of the briefcase. "Second, this wasn't in the room when the weapons were taken, so you can't get any usable prints off of it."

"Prints?" Albus asked.

"Fingerprints," Clyde said, angrily. "What kind of agent are you? I don't need a worthless human being!"

"Well, if you don't want me, I can solve this case on my own," Albus said. "But you'll not be able to get anywhere without me. I've been trained to think like the people who did this and who killed your partner. You need me on this."

"My partner died of natural causes," Clyde said.

"He was murdered," Albus said.

Clyde smirked. "You saying you can recreate the robbery?" he asked. "You can do what I couldn't do?"

"Yes," Albus said.

"Then how do I know you didn't do it the first time?" Clyde asked.

Albus looked him straight in the eyes and said, "I didn't."

"Ok," Clyde said. "So, how did they do it?"

"That trusting?" Albus asked.

"I can tell if you're lying or not," Clyde said. "It's in your eyes. Now, how did they do it?"

Albus turned away from him. "I don't know if I can trust you that much yet," Albus said.

"What do you mean?" Clyde asked.

"I don't know how well you keep secrets," Albus said.

"I've been a member of a secret organization for thirty years," Clyde said.

"My secret," Albus said, turning back toward Clyde, "had been kept for 700 years before the SIS was thought about. If we break it, we suffer a fate worse than death: our souls are sucked out through our mouths."

"I can keep it," Clyde said. Albus sighed. "You need me too," Clyde said.

_He's right, _Albus thought. The truth was that this was a matter of national security. Harry had said he could break the Statute of Secrecy only in life threatening situations. Did this count? Albus looked again at the metal ball. He could think of thirty ways to move that using magic, could easily move thirteen of them in fifteen minutes (he could probably do it in ten). But then what? He wasn't a trained investigator of personalities, he was more interested in books. He knew how they moved the weapons but not where or why. That appeared to be Clyde's specialty, but until Clyde knew how, he was stuck. The only way to solve this was to work together. The only was to solve this was to break the Statute; to become a criminal worthy of the Dementor's Kiss.

Albus reached for his forearm where his wand was in its holster. His hand gripped the handle and he whispered "_Muffilato_" to take care of the cameras. He flexed his right arm and his wand appeared in his hand. "I've knocked the cameras out, so we'll need to be quick, in case they're watching them. Throughout the centuries, witches and wizards have lived among you, minding their own business and leaving you alone." Albus pointed his wand at the metal ball and gave it a good swish-and-flick, thinking the spell _wingardium leviosa. _ The ball jumped from the support and began to float in the air. "As you can see, moving these would be easy for a wizard. I'm a member of the magical equivalent of Scotland Yard. It's our job to ensure the bad guys don't let the muggles in on the secret. Usually we succeed."

"Usually?" Clyde said, his eyes wide and focused on the metal ball. Albus moved it around the room and then brought it back to its support.

"You remember the Hurricane in the north a few years back and that brand new bridge that collapsed?" Albus asked.

"My first case was that bridge," Clyde said. "We never could figure out what had happened, we just ruled out foul play."

"It was destroyed by servants of a wizard named Voldemort," Albus said, setting the ball down and walking toward the large metal door. "One of the few wizards to remain outside of Ministry control. In fact he took control of the ministry. A few kids wound up killing him though."

"You're nuts," Clyde said.

"I've been told that," Albus said, smiling. "But not about this."

"I'll get the General to let us out," Clyde said, pulling a switch out of his pocket as Albus approached the door. "Then you're going to the Hospital." Albus placed his wand on the door and thought _alohamora_. The door clicked open.

"No need to get the General with me around," Albus said, pushing the door open with a gust of wind from his wand. "As much as I'd like to wipe his memory, that would be too much paperwork. And I'm not crazy. What will it take for you to believe this?"

"I don't believe in magic," Clyde said.

"We work really hard to keep it that way," Albus said.

Clyde followed Albus as he walked into the hallway and around the corner until Albus stopped in the same place he had on the way in. "I take it you didn't have to sneeze earlier?" Clyde asked.

"This place has known magic," Albus said.

"How can you tell?" Clyde asked.

"You have goosebumps? You're hair standing on end with heightened awareness?" Albus asked.

"A little, wasn't really thinking about it," Clyde said.

"It's a sign of powerful magic," Albus said. "I just have to figure out what kind."

Albus walked closer to the empty wall and began to creep along, attune to his creepy feelings. Finally, his hair began to fall back down, the goosebumps began to go away, indicating the end of the magical area. He turned around and repeated the process going the other way, ignoring Clyde's snide remarks. After determining the other boarder, Albus tapped his wand on the wall a couple times, saying "Reveal your secrets." At first, nothing seemed to happen, but then the glowing white outline of a very wide door formed. Slowly, the glow became more and more distinct and solid. The glow began to fill the door frame as a brown, wooden frame emerged from the glow with a dark brown door soon filling the frame, a shiny golden knob providing the finishing touch.

"This was not on the blueprints," Clyde said, his snide comments ending abruptly.

"Blueprints?" Albus asked.

"We were given the plans of the complex so we could look for possible hiding or staging locations. There was nothing else down this far," Clyde said.

"Well, let's see where it goes," Albus said, grasping his wand tightly and taking the knob. "Oh, and Clyde, you might want to pull that gun now," he added, noticing that Clyde was still awestruck.

"Oh, right," Clyde said. "And it's Johnson, Zachariah Johnson."

"What?" Albus asked.

"My real name is Zachariah Johnson, not Clyde," the man now called Johnson said. "We don't use real names on mission, but I've got no choice but to trust you now."

"Albus Potter," Albus said.

"I know," Zachariah said. Albus gave him a double take as Zachariah pulled his weapon. "I did my homework, rookie." Albus pulled the door open.

Dust exploded into the hallway as Albus opened the door. Before the door was even completely open, a giant, thing fell out from behind the door. Albus waved his arms to clear the dust and walked to get a better look at the newly revealed space. His foot kicked something and he looked down.

"It's nothing but a broom closet," Zachariah said, letting his weapon down.

"It's a body," Albus said. He had bent down to examine what had fallen out. The man now lying on the ground was South Asian in decent, dressed in a traditional, western business suit and very clearly dead. Albus looked up to see that the room was, in fact, a broom closet. It wasn't more than two feet deep, filled with old coats, brooms, rakes and mops.

"All right, wonder boy," Zachariah said. "What's this?"

"It doesn't make any sense," Albus said. "Why would you go to such trouble to hide a broom closet?"

"Perhaps they tried to hide the body?" Zachariah said.

"Maybe," Albus said. "But there are other, easier ways to hide a body. For instance..." Albus grabbed the man's arm and turned, reappearing down the hall, the full body in hand. "I could take him anywhere in a couple seconds," he said, returning to the closet. "Why set up that complicated spell to hide the closet and wipe it from the blueprints?"

"You can change blueprints?"

"We've wiped islands from every map in the world before, so yes, we could change blueprints," Albus said.

"How about creating closets?" Zachariah asked.

"Creating?" Albus asked.

"We were looking for a staging ground, perhaps they could have simply appeared here and then moved to the weapon room?"

"We have to turn, it would have to be deeper," Albus said, stepping into the closet. He stepped into the closet and prepared to turn. He leaned up against the back wall for leverage and fell through it. Albus gasped and flailed his arms, grabbing a coat hook on the side of the closet.

"Whoa," Zachariah said, running up and making sure Albus regained his balance. "What just happened?"

"This is not a wall," Albus said, putting his had through the back wall. "It's a mirage. Pull that gun again." Zachariah showed him he already had it out.

"I'm not a rookie, kid," he said. "Lead on." Albus stepped into the mirage and seemed to fall a short distance.

"Steps," he said in warning. Then he moved fully through the wall. Behind the wall was a long staircase, as wide as the closet hiding it, descending further underground. Albus waited for Zachariah at the bottom before walking down the hallway toward a large, open, metal door at the end. Through the door was déjà vu. The room was massive and warehouse shaped and eerily empty, exactly as the room above, only without the cameras and black powder.

"They brought them here," Albus said, the realization so strong it was terrifying. "They fused the weapons with their stands for ease of transport, and then transported them magically from this room."

"You're sure?" Zachariah asked, looking him straight in the eyes. Albus nodded. "Transported them where?"

"Anywhere on Earth," Albus said.

"Well, they've got a three week head start on us, we'll need to process this room quick. I'll get the Director to send a crew from the Yard over," Zachariah said.

"No!" Albus said. "We'll use magical personnel."

"Why?" Zachariah asked aggressively.

"First, this room doesn't exist in the blueprints on file in Scotland Yard, so that's a lot of questions to answer. Second, my people can come directly to this room without going through that stuff upstairs and thus letting more people know of the missing weapons. Third, our only witness died a few days ago in a magical hospital," Albus said.

"Wait, witness?" Zachariah asked.

Albus told him about his conversation with Scorpius.

"So what now?" Zachariah asked.

Albus took out a small vial and forced some air into it before corking it. "This will tell us all that that kit up there will tell you," he said. "Now we close the room off and return to the ministry. We don't yet know what we are looking for. We'll need to take that body as well."

"Lead on, MacGyver," Zachariah said. They closed and magically locked the steel door, went up the stairs, closed the closet door which disappeared again with a tap of Albus' wand. Albus walked to the man, pointed his wand at him and said _Portus_. The body glowed a bright, blinding blue for a short time before returning to exactly how he looked. Just as Zachariah was about to ask what happened, the body disappeared.

"Ok, not expecting that," Zachariah said.

"I sent him on ahead. Now, we need to get out of here, without arousing suspicion," Albus said. He waved his wand at the dust in the hallway which disappeared and then took Zachariah back into the room they were left in and shut the metal door. "Now, call the General and let's get out of here." Zachariah smiled and chuckled before pulling out his buzzer again pressing the button to call the General.

A/N: Extra points if you got the MacGyver line!


	7. Chapter 6: Bachelor Pad

A/N: Many thanks to ladyrayne13 for the review. I hop you continue to be interested!

Chapter 6: Bachelor Pad

Ashley Potter washed the tears off her face an hour after her husband left. She always hated fighting with him, but today had been particularly painful. She had been secretly elated upon hearing he would not be working in the field. In fact she had asked Harry to keep him in the post as long as he could, for her.

The argument had brought up this fact and also the bitterness the assignment had given her husband. Though her own argument had been unsuccessful, Albus' argument had cut to the bone. The nature of his job was dangerous and every time he walked out the door could be the last time. But his job was necessary to protect both her and their daughter. Her sacrifice of personal security would ensure national security. But, unlike Albus' sacrifice, her's wouldn't ever be recognized publicly.

Evidence of her tears removed, she began to prepare for a walk. After changing, readying the stroller, ensuring she had a fresh diaper and bottles of milk, she woke up Charlotte (much to Charlotte's displeasure) and loaded her into the stroller. Then she headed out the front door.

Walking always cleared her head, and usually she had no idea where she would go. She just walked. It was getting dark, the first signs of rush hour creeping onto the streets. The first couple of times she went for a walk, she had been attacked by muggle opportunists. They woke up a week later, and she hadn't had any trouble since. She could be damaging in battle when she needed. She steered Charlotte north a couple blocks and turned onto Duke Street. Some dandelion seeds blew into Charlotte's stroller and she began to play with them. They soon began to waltz across the front of the stroller, much to the girl's delight. Then a new seed hit her in the face and they suddenly were much less present. Ashley had to quickly put out the ensuing fire.

Ashley wished for a father for the millionth time since she had gotten married. Her father had died when she was very young and while her mother had remarried, Ashley had never really gotten close to her stepfather. She never did forgive him for not adopting her brother and her. No matter what society decided, it would never be easy to go through a British boarding school with a different last name than your parents. Fortunately she had only had to endure it until she was ten. Thank goodness for Hogwarts.

She turned down an unused side road as Charlotte tried to mimic the sounds of the birds. Ashley needed a guy to turn to. She needed to understand Albus but she couldn't go to her stepfather and she couldn't exactly complain about Albus to Albus. She began to think about who else she was close to and it hit her: John. Her brother wasn't exactly an expert on good men, but he was at least a guy and he listened well. She decided to give him a try.

Several turns later found her knocking at John's door while trying to calm Charlotte who liked knocking about as much as a dog who had a history with the mailman. Thankfully, John was quick to answer.

"Ashley! An unexpected surprise, come on in!" he said, motioning her through the door.

"And you wonder why you're still single," Ashley said, parking Charlotte next to what she assumed was supposed to be the couch. She pushed the papers which littered the ground out of the way to make a path across what was left of the carpet. At least John didn't need to worry about the carpet fading; it can't fade if the sun can't get to it under all the clutter. The rest of the apartment wasn't any better. The "couch" consisted of a large plywood boards being held up by empty milk gallons and had a few blown out tires for a backrest. Ashley hoped that John remembered the support spell because there was no way it would hold weight without magic. He had an old telephone wire spool attempting to serve as a table, but there was no room left because of the newspapers and video game magazines rotting on it. A working television rested upon three others, two with broken screens, with a PlayStation 5 on one side and a computer with two monitors attached off to the other side. And that was just the living room; Ashley didn't want to think about the rest of the apartment.

"Are you suggesting something?" John asked as he shut the door.

"You did learn cleaning spells at Hogwarts, didn't you?" Ashley chided as she sat down on the couch.

"I think Charlie and I were too busy talking about the Quidditch playoffs that lesson," John chided back. "Or perhaps the World Cup. England was doing well that year."

"That explains a lot actually," Ashley said.

"Hey now, didn't mommy teach you to respect your elders?" John asked.

"Elders?" Ashley said. "Don't see any elders here."

"Um, last I checked, I am older than you," John said.

"By one year!" Ashley said. "That hardly counts."

"I think it counts," John said.

"Would it count if the roles were reversed?" Ashley asked.

John laughed. "Can I get you something to drink?" he asked.

"That's what I thought," Ashley said. "And I'm fine right now without a drink."

"I do use magic to clean my dishes if that changes your mind," John said.

"I'll have a butterbeer then," Ashley said. John left to get the drink.

"Butterbeer is an unusual choice for you sis," John said a few minutes later as he returned with the requested drink. "What's up?"

"Stupid stuff," Ashley said. "Nothing much."

"It's been three months since you last came by here," John said. "And then it was announced. Clearly something is up. What is it? If that boy has done anything to you, I'll beat him up, you know that."

"You don't need to do anything to Al," Ashley said. "Not that you could touch him. I'm just conflicted, that's all."

"Hit me," John said, a gentle look on his face as he sat down in a conjured chair across from the couch.

"Al got reassigned today," she said.

"That's good right?" John said. "He hated that post."

"Yes, but I didn't," Ashley said. "I liked that he was finally not in a dangerous job. I like that he came home at a reasonable hour. In the field, he may not come home at all; alive or dead."

"So you're conflicted," John said.

"Conflicted is a good word," she said. "I want to be happy for him, I really do. It's just that the whole mom thing has been so hard. I really want some help around the house."

"Does Albus help that much now?" John asked.

"He does what he can," she said. "He works, or worked, long days at the office, but he was generally eager to move a little when he got home. Cleaning and helping with Charlotte was almost a tonic to sitting all day at Scotland Yard. The issue was that Charlotte was typically asleep before he got home. Now, he'll probably not be home most nights, at least for a bit."

"Where was he reassigned?" John asked.

"I can't tell you because he's not supposed to tell me. It was muggle though, not through the auror department. Field work of a highly classified nature with SIS I think," Ashley said.

"MI6?" John said. "No way."

"MI6?" Ashley said. "What's that?"

"Sorry," John said. "It's an old term for SIS. But honestly, it takes years, maybe decades for people to get into that department, and they want the job. Albus wants the Auror Department, not MI - sorry SIS."

"I know," Ashley said. "He's just lucky that way I guess: always gets the dangerous jobs he _doesn't_ want."

"So he can't use his wand?" John asked, looking worried for the first time.

"I think he can, he sounded like they knew of his special abilities," Ashley said. "But he'll need to be discrete about it."

"I worry for him, he's never been much of a gun guy," John said.

"I worry too," Ashley said.

"If you need someone to help look after Charlotte, give me a call," John said. "I'm always available."

"Computer job not working out?" Ashley asked with a smile.

"Um, I'm looking for a new field," John said, returning the smile.

Charlotte began to cry. "Ugh," Ashley said. "Charlotte wants to move on I think."

John stood up as Ashley got ready to leave. "Well, it's been good to see you," he said. "And my wonderful niece. Try not to be a stranger."

"You could come walk with us," Ashley said. "That will give me a chance to talk some more."

"S-Sure!" John said. "Give me a second." John ran back into the apartment to grab something. Ashley waited patiently as he returned with a small white dog that appeared to still be asleep as John led him to the door on a leash. The sight of the open door though seemed to wake him up as he reached his nose out for the smell of fresh air.

"I didn't know you had a dog," Ashley said.

"I'm a man of many surprises," John said, winking. "Besides, we might need some protection."

"Oh come on," Ashley said. "It's just a little walk. What could go wrong?"


	8. Chapter 7: Muggle in the Ministry

A/N: Many thanks to ladyrayne13 and I Am Book Ninja for reviewing! I'm glad you're enjoying it!

Chapter 7: Muggle in the Ministry

Zachariah Johnson did not believe in magic. It was merely illusion designed to fool the weak-minded. Truth be told, he was actually a pretty good illusionist himself. He had pulled some good ones on master criminals over the years. His favorite was when his partner had shot him in the chest and gotten the weapons dealer they were investigating to leave him for dead. Of course, the bulletproof vest hadn't kept the shot from hurting, but after they all left, he was free to collect enough evidence to put the guy in jail for sixteen lives. It was the conviction that got him into SIS in the first place.

He swayed uneasily on the train now speeding deep below the London streets. His new partner stood comfortably looking at the map, making sure they got off at the correct exit. Usually Zachariah liked to remain calm, after all, his job usually involved infiltrating hostile places and the easiest way to infiltrate a place is to look like you belong. No one asks any questions that way. But today it was incredibly difficult.

This new partner was questioning everything he believed. His name was Albus Potter, and like every new partner Zachariah was assigned, he had done a thorough investigation of him before they met. Albus should not, in his opinion, be working for the SIS. His life is easy enough to follow for a bit. He was born in 2006 and began excelling in school as early as 2008. He achieved the highest marks possible throughout his early schooling, with many teachers remarking that they would have given higher marks if possible. Then, in 2017, at the age of 11, he disappeared completely. No record anywhere that he began schooling in the fall of 2017. His name appeared briefly in the tabloids in the fall of 2021 and into the next winter along with that of his father Harry. Not much is mentioned in connection to him, but since those were some of the darkest months in his SIS career the coincidence didn't do anything to ease a growing since of discomfort in Zachariah. Albus reappeared suddenly in 2024 working at Scotland Yard.

After losing Albus during his teenage years, Zachariah began researching the family. There was no record of his mother Ginerva anywhere until Albus' brother James was born. His father, Harry, had also disappeared at the age of eleven with regard to schooling. A few family members mentioned that he attended St. Brutus' Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys (something that did not make Zachariah any more comfortable), but the Centre had no record of him. The tabloids were a different story however. Harry Potter never disappeared from the tabloids. In fact, in the late 90's, his name was the single most mentioned name in his leading sources. There was a collection of 7 books written with all the names in them, but they were fiction. Zachariah had written it off as coincidence. Harry was mentioned in connection with the Brockdale Bridge fiasco: Zachariah's only unsolved case. Of course, a lot was different back then.

Brockdale Bridge. THE bridge. And Albus had brought that up today as well, said that some servants of some guy named...Voldawart?...destroyed the bridge and had been punished by another law. Lot of help that did him, he'd almost been fired for not securing any evidence on the scene. Then again, he really couldn't remember ever going to the scene…

And what Albus had done today: levitating a three ton metal ball, opening locked doors with air, making bodies disappear completely and creating doors from blank walls could all, individually, be explained away as illusion. But they would each take hours of prep-work to complete and Albus just hadn't been down there that long. The only explanation was magic, real magic. And Zachariah Johnson did not believe in magic.

Albus found their stop and motioned for Zachariah to exit the train. They made their way up to ground level without incident and after a few minutes Zachariah was able to locate where they were. The downtown London streets echoed with the honks of millions of Englishmen and women attempting to get to work. Or was it return from work? How late had it gotten?

The crowded streets were part of a renovation project that had been begun by the Prime Minister in 2013. The project sought to tear down and rebuild a rundown part of central London, about two blocks from the Thames. The project had passed Parliament with flying colors but hit a snag in actual implementation. Eventually, it was forgotten. The result was an even more rundown section of town. Usually, the drivers traversed it without even looking out of their vehicles. Investigations had expounded conspiracy theories, many of which pointed to a single man named Kingsley Shaklebolt blocking the project due to his considerable connections inside the government. Zachariah had never given credence to these rumors, but now that Albus had led him here for the location of the magical government, he was beginning to reconsider. It wouldn't be the strangest thing about today.

"This way," Albus said after getting his bearings. They turned down a side street and walked further away from the tall buildings.

"You sure we're in the right place?" Zachariah asked once the buildings reached a single level, just barely high enough to cover the setting sun.

"We're here," Albus said, pointing at an old broken telephone booth with a broken rotary phone hanging by a couple threads inside. The booth was leaning against one of the buildings. He motioned for Zachariah to enter. "After you," he said.

Zachariah pulled his gun and stepped inside.

"You don't want that out here," Albus said as he entered the booth as well. Zachariah was sure there wouldn't be enough room, but they managed to fit. It was a good thing that some of the panels were out, giving them some extra room.

"No offense, but I smell a trap," Zachariah said. That was not a lie. "I've seen some weird stuff today, I want to be prepared."

"Have you ever been in any real danger today?" Albus asked. Zachariah went through the day. There were some scary moments (which is saying something for a multi-decade veteran of the SIS) but no points where he really feared for his life. Until now. He decided to trust his partner. He had come this far, he really had no other choice. He put the gun away.

His partner flinched and a short stick appeared in his left hand. It was different than the one he had used earlier. "Here," Albus said, handing the stick to him. "It's my spare wand. You'll need to hand that to the security guard when she asks."

"But I can't use magic," Zachariah pointed out.

"You won't need to use it, just present it," Albus said. Zachariah didn't question it. He was done questioning. Albus reached around him and picked up the phone, a useless gesture, but he did it anyway. He began to dial: 62442. The phone dial swung back into place.

At first nothing happened. Then a woman's voice boomed loud and clear in the booth. "Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business."

"Albus Potter, Auror, escorting witness Oliver Clay to the Auror department," Albus said.

"Thank you," said the voice. "Visitor, please take the badge and attach it to the front of your robes."

A small, silver pin that read "Oliver Clay, witness" slid out of the change dispenser on the phone and Zachariah pinned it to his shirt.

The voice returned. "Visitor to the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search and present your wand for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium."

"Oliver Clay?" Zachariah asked as the floor of the telephone booth shuddered. He was surprised, but he'd begun to expect the unexpected.

"Yeah," Albus said. "You told me you never use your real name in public. I had to use mine, they know me here."

The ground had swallowed them, leaving complete darkness.

"Yeah, but Clay?" Zachariah said.

"Well, I am a Potter," Albus said. Zachariah couldn't see anything, but he was betting Albus was smirking.

Golden light crept across the floor of the booth as it emerged from the ceiling of a large foyer. The first thing that Zachariah noticed was the fountain. Six magnificent larger-than-life figures stood back-to-back encased in gold. Each held out what appeared to be a weapon of sorts, sticks similar to the one which Albus had given him, clubs, swords and a sock held by the shortest figure. He wasn't sure what that was about. Each weapon shot a streak of water out, dancing across the statue in ways that defied the laws of physics. As they approached the fountain he saw words inscribed in the statues. Albus said they were the names of the people who had died fighting against the wizard named Voldawart. (Albus corrected the name to Volde_m_ort).

The ceiling shined with golden stars in formations that Zachariah recognized immediately: flags of several nations including England, Scotland, the United States, France, Spain, Israel, China, Brazil, Australia and South Africa. There was another side as well. The sight made him feel a little more at home.

"This way," Albus said, directing him to a small, forgotten desk beneath a sign reading Security. The sign was beginning to fall off. A young and bored girl sat behind the desk, painting her nails. She looked up, annoyed, as they approached. "I'm escorting a witness," Albus told her.

She rolled her eyes and motioned for Zachariah to come around the desk. She brushed a long, golden, thin and very flexible rod in his general direction. The rod began to buzz as she passed over his gun, but either she wasn't interested or she couldn't hear it over the sound of chewing her gum. "Wand," she said, holding out her hand for Zachariah's wand. He handed her the one Albus had given him. She stuck it in a strange scale-looking device that began to vibrate vigorously. Once it stopped a thin piece of parchment came out of the base and the girl ripped it off and read it with no conviction what so ever.

"Black walnut, 8 1/2 inches, thunderbird feather core, been in use three years is that correct?" she asked. Zachariah didn't answer, but the girl still handed him back the wand and placed the parchment on a small brass spike. "Have a nice day," she said and returned to her nails. Albus directed them to a set of lifts in the back of the ministry.

"That was weird," Albus said as they entered the lifts.

"Yeah," Zachariah said, giving the wand back to Albus. "Who uses parchment anymore?" Albus just rolled his eyes. Before the lift could begin to move, a paper airplane flew into it and hit Albus' nose before unfolding for him to read.

"My boss is expecting us," Albus said as the lift began to move up.

"Do the planes always hit people?" Zachariah said.

"Used to but the Minister managed to get maintenance to fix them. Now they only hit my family," Albus said.

"Level Seven, Department of Magical Games and Sports, incorporating the British and Irish Quidditch League Headquarters, Official Gobstones Club and Ludicrous Patents Office," the same female voice from the telephone booth said. A man carrying a box that was thrashing entered the lift.

"Headed for the Auror department," the man said out of breath. "Someone bewitched the bludger."

"I'd blame the house elf," Albus said as they passed floor six. They remained silent as they passed floor five and four, with more paper airplanes entering and exiting. They were beginning to block the light in the lift. Finally the lift arrived at floor two: "Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including the Improper Use of Magic Office, Auror Headquarters and Wizengamot Administration Services," at least according to the voice.

An airplane flew into the lift, but Albus caught it and squeezed it centimeters from his nose. He released it and let it unfold. "I'm almost there, meet me in your office," Albus said. Writing appeared on the note and it refolded and flew off down the hall. "My father is getting impatient," Albus said.

"I thought we were meeting your boss," Zachariah said.

"Same person," Albus said. They headed down the hall, passing by the windows which each showed a spring shower outside.

"Wasn't it sunny out today?" Zachariah asked.

"It was," Albus said. "These are fake; maintenance decides what weather we get. We're underground here, but the windows make it bearable. Here we are."

Albus opened a pair of oak doors into another world. The room was filled with cubicles and floating paper airplanes. The walls were lined with doors leading to offices and Albus appeared to be heading impatiently to a corner office furthest from the door. But the strangest thing in the room were the televisions, each tuned to its own thing. Some were showing news stations that Zachariah recognized, others were showing maps and a couple were facilitating face to face conversations. He definitely didn't expect to see something quite so non-magical here.

They entered the corner office. There was no desk or any identifying marks on the walls, only a long meeting table with a man who looked exactly like an older Albus with brown hair sitting at the head. Gray streaks had begun to appear in the hair, but it was just as untidy as his partner's. The man said nothing as they sat down but once they had, he pulled a wand and pointed it at the door. Zachariah looked questioningly at his partner who said it was the same spell which had knocked out the cameras at Fort Charles.

"Any information on the evidence I sent you?" Albus asked.

"No," Harry said. "We're swamped with other cases. I should have something tomorrow. What's going on?"

Albus immediately began to tell him everything. He started by describing a conversation with the person named Scorpius (a conversation Zachariah had heard about, and one which distressed him greatly). He described what the Director had told him and what they had found at the Fort. So trusting. Zachariah added what he was asked, but only answered questions with even more vague answers. He shared his suspicions about who might have been responsible and what they intended to do with the weapons.

"But what would someone want with that many nuclear weapons?" Harry asked after Zachariah told him his suspicions.

"I told you: they'll want to use them," Zachariah repeated.

"I agree," Harry said. "But where? One would be enough to destroy any target I can think of."

"I can think of more targets," Zachariah said. "And no one said they'd attack only one target."

"Where are you thinking?" Harry said. Zachariah didn't answer. "Look, Clay," Harry said (they still were using the name Oliver Clay for him. Harry hadn't asked and Albus hadn't corrected him). "This guy has a three week head start. If we're going to catch him, we'll have to work together, with or without trust."

"Trust is earned," Zachariah said. "If your agency had been doing their job, he wouldn't have a head start."

"My agency tried, you hid information from us," Harry said. "How did Albus finally get assigned to this case anyway?"

"His partner died," Albus said.

"Cardiac Arrest?" Harry asked. "No forced entry, no struggle, no obvious sign of a murder but in perfect health?"

"You are the second man to guess that correctly today," Zachariah said. "Do you know something we do not?"

"The Killing Curse," Harry said. "It's forbidden in our world, but that doesn't stop the worst of us. What was your partner's name?"

"Peter Acker. Left behind a daughter Mackenzie."

"Hm. I'll make you a deal. We'll investigate the death of Mr. Acker as a magical death case, but we won't investigate the weapons in order to avoid future complications," Harry said. "Peter's death was not an accident. Someone is watching the case closely."

"Sir, with all due respect, I think we should have an auror on the weapons case," Albus said.

"I have an Auror on the case," Harry said. "You. Do not disappoint me Potter."

Albus appeared taken back. "Yes sir," he said.

Something hard ran into the door, but it wouldn't open. "Excuse me," Harry said as he pointed his wand at the door. Another bang and the door opened with a young witch (Zachariah assumed) falling through it. She quickly got up and brushed off her robes. "Sir," she said to Harry, "something huge is going on."

"What?" he asked, quickly getting up and running out of the room. Albus motioned for Zachariah and him to follow. The auror office was buzzing but everyone was huddled around a television showing a news station along the wall to their left. Harry got them to part as he approached and Zachariah was able to get a glimpse of the screen. The sight made his stomach fall to the floor. A mushroom cloud was rising over a modern city surrounded by desert. The crowd closed briefly before re-parting as Harry plowed through it toward them.

"Nuke went off in downtown Tel Aviv," he said, panic setting in. "We've got to see if it's ours and fast, before the muggles start World War III. Albus, go to the Ministry in Jerusalem first, it's proper protocol. You'll have to apparate. Hurry!"

"Tel Aviv is not good," Albus said to Zachariah.

"It was one of the places I had in mind," Zachariah said. "The choice of Tel Aviv tells us a lot about who did this. Every bomb they use helps us close in on them."

"What does this tell us?" Albus asked as they returned to the corner office. It was supposedly easier to apparate in there.

"They probably want to start WWIII," Zachariah said matter-of-factly. "We'll need to warn the Iranians. Just what does apparate mean anyway?"

Albus chuckled briefly before his serious look returned. "I forgot you haven't apparated before," he said. He grabbed Zachariah's arm tightly and said "Get ready for a ride."


	9. Chapter 8: Israel

A/N: Many thanks to shortmeanone for adding my story and to ladyrayne13 for another review. This story escalates quickly ;-) I try to give a shout out to everyone who reviews but thanks especially for your continued support. Reviews are why people do this.

Chapter 8: Israel

James Potter finished his second day back at Scotland Yard quietly. He bid a good night to the last of his coworkers, insisting on getting some last bits of work done. In reality, this was a night that he was going to get revenge. During his first stay at the yard, he had set a charm upon the filing cabinets to help him filter through the files for anything suspicious. But his brother had discovered a troubling fact. There was a file he had missed. And today, the Director was not present; today, James would get his revenge.

When he was positive he was alone, he pulled his wand and tapped his desk to ensure that his work would continue to get done. Then he got up and headed for the Director's office door. He tapped his wand on the door and thought _alohamora_. A click from the door indicated success. He walked into the office and gently shut the door behind him, magically disrupting any camera or recording devices while he was at it.

He knew that he was looking for a book which, when pulled, would open a secret file for MI6. But he didn't know which book. He began to search the hundreds of books on the shelves, but soon realized that he didn't have time. Finally he got tired of it and stepped back. He waved his wand and suddenly every book on the wall except one jumped toward him. The one that stayed on the shelf pulled like a lever and the shelf opened like a door, revealing a palm reader behind it.

James took out a small flask from his pocket and walked around behind Director Hawthorne's desk, pulling a hair off the top of the desk. He placed it in the flask and immediately it began to bubble. James took a deep breath, reminded himself that this was brewed by Hermione Weasley and therefore was good, and took a gulp.

The potion tasted like piss and vinegar. James conjured a mirror and looked into it. Seeing the face of the Director smiling back at him, he moved to the palm reader and placed his hand on it. The palm reader slid up and revealed a large filing cabinet behind it. He pulled his wand and placed his special charm on it as well. Then he searched for the button that would return everything as it was. Once the bookshelves were back in place, James waved his wand and each of the books flew back to where they had originated. He checked outside the door before exiting to an empty room. He tapped his desk to stop the files from working on themselves and then apparated home.

* * *

Meanwhile, Albus Potter apparated into a courtyard facing a massive forty-foot stone wall in the heart of Jerusalem. Luckily, no one noticed him appear, their attention was too focused on the wall itself. His problem was that he had brought Zachariah with him. It was Zachariah's first time apparating and it had been more than 2000 miles. Needless to say, he wasn't feeling too well. He immediately folded over and vomited in the middle of the courtyard. The surrounding people noticed this. They were at the Western Wall courtyard and people tend to frown when you vomit in their sacred places. Albus rushed Zachariah to the toilets on the northern end of the complex, secretly waving his wand over the vomit. It would magically clean itself in thirty minutes; when they were far away.

While Zachariah labored in the wash closet, Albus left the area and went up a local market street. The street was thin, not more than a single car wide, and dark because the canopies of the stores along both sides blocked the rising sun. Albus wondered how long it had been since he'd left home the morning before. He knew the added security made it difficult to apparate into Israel, but he never suspected they would have slowed him down so much. It was early morning; already tomorrow. They could have flown faster, assuming they could have flown at all. The local shops were just beginning to open, large metal doors swinging into the stone street. Albus soon found what he was looking for: a postcard shop.

"Hello sir," the shop vendor said in good English.

"Do you have one of the Parliament?" Albus asked, examining the rack of postcards.

"The Knesset?" the man asked.

"Is that what it's called?" Albus asked.

"Just one," the man said. "We don't get many requests for that. Here." He pulled one off the bottom of the rack showing a strange square, concrete building, slightly bulging at the top like an anvil. Albus took it, seeing just enough of the courtyard below for apparation. "I give you five for five shekel. It's a very good price."

"Thank you, but I'll pass," Albus said, pulling a gold galleon from his pocket. "Keep the change."

"Only Shekels. What is this?" the man asked.

"It's solid gold. Melt it down," Albus said while leaving. The man made no further complaints. After getting through the metal detectors, Albus reentered the Western Wall complex.

"You're looking better," Albus said as he walked up to Zachariah.

"What happened? This is..." Zachariah trailed off.

"Jerusalem," Albus finished for him. "The Western Wall to be specific. We apparated, a.k.a. magically traveled across the earth."

"Never do that again," Zachariah said.

Albus smiled. "Sorry," he said, grabbing Zachariah's arm and focusing on the postcard. He turned.

The two men emerged on the street shown in front of the Knesset. Zachariah found a railing and attempted to vomit again. Fortunately, nothing was left.

"Are we done yet?" Zachariah asked.

"Probably not," Albus said. "I really am sorry. The wall was the only thing in Jerusalem I knew and I need to know where I'm going to apparate."

"The bomb went off in Tel Aviv, why are we here?" Zachariah asked.

"We'll need to get permission from the Israeli Ministry of Magic to go there," Albus said as if it was obvious.

"And that is here?" Zachariah asked.

"Almost," a perfect, British voice said behind them. They turned around. A beautiful woman stood behind them in bright red wizard robes. She was confident, with short, spiked hair and a sly mile, even at this time. It was like she couldn't stop smiling. "Deborah Lesner, Israeli magical ambassador to the United Kingdom," she said, holding out her hand. Albus and Zachariah shook it in turn. "You must be agents Potter and Clay. Harry said you'd be coming. We must hurry, the Mishpot is in emergency session.

"Mishpot?" Zachariah asked.

"Wizard legislative body for Israel. The word means judgment," Deborah said, answering the unasked question.

The area around the Knesset was buzzing with activity, indicating news of the blast had reached here, but Deborah weaved through the crowd and traffic with ease, working up the hill and away from the building. Finally, she arrived at the Israel Museum. The building looked very modern. It was not at all what Albus expected a museum to be. The security guard let them through and Albus had a feeling he was a wizard too.

Inside the museum entrance was a massive model of Jerusalem in 66 A.D. Deborah went right past this and up the stairs into the bottom of a large, rectangular courtyard. She proceeded to the remains of a first century synagogue lined up on the courtyard, but almost forgotten on a day like this. As they walked in, Albus could feel a change in the air: the synagogue reacting to magic.

"He's muggle, you'll have to let him in," Albus said looking back. Sure enough, Zachariah had turned around at the entrance to the synagogue like he'd remembered something very, very important.

"You brought a muggle here?" she asked suspiciously.

"He has all the knowledge on the case," Albus said. "He's your nation's only hope." She eyed him for a minute, but waved her wand and let Zachariah in. Then she turned and tapped her wand on the decorative front stone. Immediately the air changed and the synagogue began to rebuild itself. Giant white columns formed around them. Three deep stone benches enclosed the space and a roof began to form, quickly finishing the synagogue around them, complete with the open air windows surrounding the tall roof. Deborah walked out the front of the structure.

The museum was no longer in front of the synagogue. Instead, there was a massive hallway with walls a hundred feet high and activity all the way up. 400 feet in front of them, a currently open large oak double door with a candle-shaped, white frame stood at the end of the hallway with a huge fire burning above it, completing the candle image. The flame's light reflected off the marble hallway, lighting the entire hall. Albus could see three halls leading off both sides toward the front.

"It's a giant menorah," Albus said in awe.

"Very good," Deborah said. "I'm impressed." She led them down the hall and through the doors.

The room they had entered was massive. Arena style benches formed a semicircular audience around a seated Parliament. The far wall had a large wooden platform and a mural of the Jewish temple across the wall. Albus noticed three doors on each side of him exactly like the one they went through: the end of the branching hallways.

Shouting filled the chamber. Albus heard several people shouting, and quite a few using extensive hand gestures to do so, but couldn't understand it. "What are they saying?" he asked Deborah.

"They're deciding whether or not to go to war with the Persians," Deborah said. "War is winning by the sound of it."

"It may not have been Iran," Zachariah said, catching the reference to ancient Persia. Albus was impressed with how well he was taking the magic thing. Zachariah explained about the missing bombs. Deborah looked skeptically at him for a while, but soon turned abruptly and placed her wand on her neck. Her words were in Hebrew, but they reverberated from the walls of the chamber.

Silence fell over the chamber for several seconds before the presider motioned for Deborah to step forward. She switched to English. "Albus Potter, Son of the great Harry Potter, has some information from London relevant to this discussion."

The presider bowed his head and said "Very well, come forward Son of Harry Potter, but be quick. We need to decide before the muggles do." Albus walked down the arena style seats and across the chamber floor keenly aware of every eye on him. But he was used to that now; his name was almost as famous as his father's in England. Apparently not here. He climbed to the speaker's podium and faced the assembly. He was more nervous than when he'd spoke to Death himself.

"Witches and wizards of the Mishpot, I come from London with troubling news. Thirteen muggle nuclear weapons were stolen from the British Military by an unknown, magical terrorist. My partner and I believe one of those weapons may have tragically been used this morning in Tel Aviv.

"My official mission is to collect samples to determine if the weapon was British. But unofficially, I am here to urge caution. Vengeance for this terrible act must, and will, be done. However, it must be done to the correct person. We believe this terrorist wants to start World War III. We don't know why, but if indeed this was a British terrorist and you attack the Persians in Iran; you will be doing exactly what he wants. Therefore, I am asking for time until we can determine if the bomb was this British terrorist."

Albus stepped down and was ushered along with Zachariah out of the chamber into a hall on the right side of the menorah. They waited there for what seemed like eternity before Deborah emerged and ushered them forward down the hall. "You made quite the impression," she said. "I've never seen that body turn so fast. They are putting magical brakes on the muggle Knesset. You have one day. I've been asked to escort you."

"One day!" Zachariah said. "It takes three weeks to test uranium!"

"Not by magic," Albus said.

The group emerged from the menorah into the synagogue and Deborah stopped to tell them they'd be apparating to Tel Aviv. Zachariah's beg to avoid it was cut off as Albus grabbed his arm and they were off.

Albus had prepared himself for a disaster area.

He was not ready for this.

They had appeared at a park in the suburbs of Tel Aviv. Muggle hazmat units were getting suited up all around the park. Only a few blocks down, trees had been knocked over and houses stood with glass shattered by the blast. Almost on the horizon, the houses were on fire and the world had turned gray. Rising over the horizon, the mushroom cloud still loomed over the city as menacingly as the Dark Mark itself. There must not have been much wind.

Deborah placed two spells on them. She told them one was to protect from heat and radiation and the other was to keep the muggles from seeing them. They began to walk.

By the time they reached the horizon's gray world, the houses had been reduced to ashes. Orange towers rose from the ash where beams once stood supporting house walls. From here, Albus could finally look out over the destruction. The bombs stolen were low caliber for nukes, but the devastation was not. A smoking, gray crater gaped in front of them, small remnant of buildings standing ripped apart here and there along the rim. To the west, he could still see the smoldering remains of the coastline skyscrapers of hotels and business offices. Apparently the bomb had gone off where the world would still be able to identify the remains.

They walked past the last of the solid remains before Albus stopped and conjured a vial. He scooped some ash into it and tapped it with his wand. It sealed itself. The group began to move back to the park. The silence was felt between the group.

It was Zachariah who broke the silence first when they were in the park. "So, what now?" he asked.

"We send it off to get tested," Albus said. He pulled out his phone and called speed dial 1. His father answered.

"Albus, tell me you have something," Harry said, abandoning his traditional use of Albus' last name.

"I'm sending a sample. Test it against one from Fort Charles," Albus said.

"Got it," Harry said. Albus tapped the vial again and it turned a bright blue light then returned to normal. The next moment it vanished.

"So, now we wait?" Zachariah asked. Albus nodded, collapsing on a park bench. Zachariah joined him. Ten minutes later, Albus' phone rang.

"Hello?" he asked.

"Albus Severus Potter," Ashley said on the other end. Albus had a feeling he knew what was coming. "What are you doing going into a nuclear area? Did you even think about us? What do we do if you die? You are getting into thin ice young man."

"Wait," Albus said, "how did you even know I was here?"

"The news has 'copters with live stream, but that's not the point," she replied.

Albus got up and walked into the park, looking into the sky. Sure enough, there were helicopters in the air. "Ash, I used magical protection from the radiation. We think one of the British weapons was used here. I had to get a sample to test. You know I love you; I'd never do anything to put you or me in danger if I didn't feel it was necessary."

"Magical protection or not, I don't want you there. I want you here," she said.

"I know," Albus said.

"Isn't there someone else who can do this case?" Ashley asked.

"Yes," Albus said. "But they all have families too."

"James doesn't," Ashley said.

"Ashley, I've been ordered here. I'm staying." There was silence on the other end. "I love you and Charlotte. Tell her 'hi' for me."

"I know," Ashley said, the anger draining from her voice. "I just wish you were back at the Yard. Everything was more peaceful then."

"I know. I wish I could explain more," Albus said. "I just don't know anything else."

"No need," she said. "Director Hawthorne is doing it for you."

"What?" Albus said.

"Check BBC," she said.

Albus found a local technology shop with electricity at the edge of the park. He ran to it, Zachariah quickly joining him to see what was going on. One TV had BBC on. It showed the Director standing outside Scotland Yard. There was no sound, but the bottom line said it all. Director of Scotland Yard, Walter Hawthorne, confirms thirteen nukes stolen from His Majesty's forces - Hawthorne believes British nuke used in Tel Aviv - Tel Aviv nuke could be the work of terrorists -

"Al, you still there?" Ashley asked.

"Yeah, Ash, still here," Albus said.

"You didn't say they took that many. You're going to need to work on that," she said. "If there are twelve more, you need to stop it. I just..." There was a deep breath on the other end. "I just want you to know you have my blessing and I love you."

"I love you too," Albus said before hanging up the phone. "I guess the cat's out of the bag now," he said to Zachariah.

"Yup. Problems with the wife?" Zachariah asked with a smile.

"She's just worried," Albus said.

"You need to be careful," Zachariah said. "This job will eat your relationships alive if you let it."

"What do you mean?" Albus asked.

Zachariah sighed. "Well, I guess my heart says to trust you. That doesn't happen often, but I haven't been burned yet. This job destroyed my family. If you're not careful, it'll destroy yours too."

"What happened to them?" Albus asked.

"Remember I joined just a year after SIS was publicly recognized. Then with the Bridge fiasco, I was catapulted to the still secret, undercover section of the force. My official job was Military Historian. I would go with the military to "study" when on a mission."

They began to walk around the park. "It was okay until my son was born. Once he was there, my wife wanted me home more often than I was. Here's a picture of my son." Zachariah took out his wallet and handed Albus a picture.

Albus took the picture. "He's adorable. He's so young."

"He was one when that was taken," Zachariah said. "He'd be 25 by now."

"Why don't you have a more recent picture?" Albus asked.

"Well, about the time that was taken my daughter was born. My wife said that I had to make a choice. Either I come home and take a teaching job at some university, remember that she still thought I was a historian, or she would file for divorce and take the kids." Silence followed.

"What did you do?" Albus finally asked.

"What I felt I had to at the time. You see, enemies can use our families against us. Even divorced, my children were in immense danger. In fact, divorced I couldn't protect them as much as I could if I was married and controlled their house. And if I quit, I'd be endangering the country. I really felt, and feel, my job protects them. So I did the only thing I thought I could: I died."

"What?" Albus exclaimed.

Zachariah smiled. "I was working a case in Afghanistan in 2006, when a military helicopter crashed into the southern mountains. The Director at that time pulled some strings to ensure I was on that helicopter, which incinerated all remains. Therefore, my family got my pension. Then we crafted a new identity for me, one that would be untraceable to my family. They were safe."

"Did you ever regret that decision?" Albus asked.

"Every day," Zachariah said. "I didn't get to see my children grow up. I never got to see my son score a goal in football, never got to watch my daughter distinguish herself in school or athletics, never got to see either of them graduate. Moreover, I never got a chance to hear my children tell me they loved me. I'd give anything for that chance."

Albus' phone rang at the most inopportune time. Still, Albus answered it. "This is Potter," Albus said into it.

"Albus, the Uranium was British. We'll have to compare it to the Uranium your partner has in Scotland Yard to determine if it matches the stolen stuff, but it's not Iranian. Tell the Israelis then meet James at the Yard," his father's voice said. Albus hung up and walked toward Deborah who was eyeing them suspiciously.

"Uranium matches," Albus said. "The bomb was ours."

"Very well, I'll tell the Mishpot and notify the muggles." she said.

"We'll also need to notify Tehran," Zachariah said. "If this guy's plan is to start World War III, the next bomb will go off there."

"And the Persian Ministry doesn't trust us as much as you do," Albus said.

"We will take care of it and we'll start our own investigation," Deborah said.

"If there's anything we can do, let us know," Albus said.

"There is," Deborah said.

"What's that?" Albus asked.

"Catch this bastard," she said, "before he attacks again." Then she turned and was gone.

Albus turned to Zachariah. "Ready?" he asked.

"For what?" Zachariah asked with a tone that said he already knew the answer.

"Travel," Albus said. "We've been ordered back to London."

"Oh, great," Zachariah said as Albus grabbed his arm and turned.


	10. Chapter 9: The Dangers of the Job

A/N: Much thanks to ladyrayne13 for reviewing. I look forward to your review every chapter!

Short one for y'all this time ;-)

Chapter 9: The Dangers of the Job

Ashley Potter was sitting across from her brother in a bar and grill at six in the morning. She had entered the bar for dinner with her brother eight hours previously. But once news came on the television of the bomb in Tel Aviv, no one had left the bar. And the owner hadn't closed.

"He'll be ok," John said, rocking Charlotte next to him on the booth. Ashley had just hung up the phone with Albus in Tel Aviv. He'd been in the blast zone.

"Yeah," Ashley said with a sigh. "He always is." John's dog was asleep next to her. She wasn't quite sure how that switch had happened. "I'm just worried. I love the man."

"I thought you were angry with him," John said.

"Angry, yes. Not a death wish," Ashley said.

"There's a difference with women?" John chided.

"Comments like that are why you have a dog and not a child," Ashley said.

"Actually, I think you've got the dog and I've got the kid right now," John said. Ashley didn't comment.

"They're not there anymore," Ashley said a few minutes later, nodding toward the television behind the bar.

"Where?" John asked.

"There," she repeated. "Al was in that park there and now he's gone."

"Maybe he came back to London," John suggested.

"Maybe," Ashley said.

"I'll watch Charlotte if you want to find out," John said.

"No," Ashley said.

"How about some breakfast then?" John said. "There's a great little place about a block from here."

"Sure," Ashley said. They extended the legs on Charlotte's stroller with only a small stir from the girl and then woke the dog. The dog was much less pleasant about being woke up. He almost blew the magical cover they'd placed on him when they'd entered the bar. Ashley was glad that John had trained him not to bark. Or magically prevented him from doing so, she wasn't sure which.

They walked out the front door and turned back toward John's apartment. John motioned to a small alleyway toward the back of the bar. He believed it was a significant short cut.

"I hope you know what you're doing," Ashley said, pushing Charlotte between her and John.

"I do," John said.

"He doesn't," a woman's voice said. There was movement in the shadows and Ashley instinctively pushed Charlotte against the wall and placed herself over her daughter. "Don't try anything stupid," the voice said again as a woman stepped out with a wand pointed directly at them.

"What do you want?" John asked, fear creeping into his voice.

"You can go for all I care," the woman said. "She's what I want."

"What do you want with me?" Ashley asked.

"Not you, the girl," the woman said.

"Why?" Ashley asked again. Her eyes were slowly taking in the situation; seeing slight, almost robotic movement in the shadows. She was glad to realize that her Gryffindor nature was coming through. She had no fear. Nerves, yes; fear no.

"Let's just say your husband is doing too well," the woman said slowly advancing toward Ashley. "He needs to be controlled."

"And taking Charlotte will control him?" Ashley asked. Her eyes met John's for a brief moment but it was enough. He wasn't doing anything until she moved.

"Only if he loves her," the woman said, shrugging her shoulders.

"He does," Ashley said.

"Then it will work," the woman said. She was only two feet away now.

"Too bad you'll never touch her," Ashley said.

"I think I will," the woman said. "What are you going to do?"

"Tell me, what house were you in?" Ashley asked. The sudden change of subject caused her to stop moving.

"Ravenclaw."

"Well, that's strange," Ashley said.

"Why's that?" the woman said.

"My husband always said Ravenclaws were smart," Ashley responded. She activated the wand holster that Albus had given her and her wand dropped into her hand. The quick draw stunned the attacking woman. John pulled his wand as Ashley sent a disarming spell at the woman. She blocked it.

John attacked the woman, who reluctantly turned her attention to him.

Ashley heard a gun cocking to her right and she just managed to cast a force field like shield before a machine gun opened fire. The bullets ricocheted off the shield into the walls of the alleyway. The shield began to fail. She recast it, smaller this time, and ducked underneath it shouting "_Expelliarmus."_ The spell illuminated the alley as it streaked through the air, somehow managing to hit her assailant, but it did no good. The shooter was a six-foot tall robot with the gun as his left arm. The robot reminded Ashley of a Super Battle Droid from those Star Wars movies John couldn't stop watching. Its arm didn't come off and the robot just stumbled back.

"_Reducto!_" Ashley yelled. The spell hit the robot before it could fire again and it crumbled apart into hundreds of pieces.

"Ashley!" John shouted from the other end of the alley. She turned, fearing the worst.

It was worse than she had feared. John was locked in a duel with the woman and seemed to be holding his own. But Charlotte was unprotected and two more robot men were closing in on the parked stroller.

_"Impedimentia!_" Ashley yelled, finding new strength to run to her baby's side. The white spell hit the far robot square in the chest and he flew back and out of sight. The second robot turned and prepared to fire his weapon, but Ashley wasn't waiting around. _"Reducto!_" she positively screamed at it and it exploded into the alley. Ashley was barely able to conjure another shield to protect Charlotte from the shrapnel.

Pain shot through her right arm as pieces of the robot cut their way through her upper arm. She managed to catch herself before she dropped her wand. The last robot came back into view. Charlotte began to cry, waking up. _ Not now,_ Ashley thought as she attempted to raise her wand, but it was no good. The robot raised its weapon and pointed it straight at Ashley's chest.

The gun hand folded in upon itself at an impossible angle. The right leg swung up and kicked him in the stomach. The robot was lifted from the ground, the head folding back into its back. The robot started to convulse, short circuiting and sparking from multiple locations. When it started to resemble a large metal ball, Ashley finally took her eyes from the robot.

Charlotte was laughing now, rolling her hands as if she was playing with silly putty; the robot following her every move. "That's my girl," Ashley said. Then John shot past her, clothes glowing with tiny flames as he flew down the alleyway. Charlotte dropped the robot. Ashley didn't have time to see if he was all right. She tried her right arm again, but it didn't respond. She raised her wand with her left.

"Brave," the woman said. Ashley noticed that she looked quite roughed up and felt a little pride in her brother. "Brave indeed, but foolish. Surrender now."

"No thanks," Ashley said, moving between the woman and her daughter. She kept her wand pointed directly at the woman's chest.

"You're injured and you can't beat me," the woman said. "And we've sealed off the alleyway so no one's hearing this; no one's coming to help."

Ashley took stock of the situation. She was no good at dueling to begin with and her dominant hand was hanging limp at her side. That reduced the spells she could use as she wasn't used to the motions with her left hand. Her only hope was to surprise the woman. She needed something strong; something that fed off her strong, motherly anger.

"I hope you don't like your face too much," Ashley said, pointing her wand at the woman's face. A questioning look crossed her face, and the woman fired a protection spell over her face as Ashley yelled "_Reducto!_"

It was exactly what Ashley wanted her to do. The spell went directly where Ashley wanted it to; her anger sharpening her accuracy. The woman's face was fine. Her wand turned to dust in her hand, hit squarely with Ashley's spell.

The woman stood stunned for a moment before she turned to run. Ashley moved her wand and shouted "_Petrificus Totalus!_" The woman face planted the asphalt. Ashley ran to John.

He was alive, which was the good news, but he wasn't doing that well. Ashley removed the stunning spell from him and let him roll onto his side, putting out the fires as he did. He got up slowly, finally accepting Ashley's help. John dusted himself off before the two of them moved over toward the mysterious woman. John kicked her over, her eyes showing the fear pulsing through her body.

"You got some Truth Potion?" Ashley asked her brother. He retrieved a bottle from a sack on his dog's back. The dog had cowered in a corner during the battle, but had moved to John's side after he was stunned. He had stayed by John's side after that. A true Hufflepuff that dog.

"Why are you holding your wand in your...Good Lord what happened to your arm?" John asked, noticing the cuts for the first time. Blood had soaked her jacket.

"One of the robots exploded," Ashley said.

John touched his wand to the wounds and they closed themselves up. Feeling began to slowly return to her arm. "Thanks," she said. "Maybe you should be a healer."

"And have to deal with Scorpius every day?" John asked with a smile. "Something's blocking the healing." He examined the arm and took off the wand holster. He put it in the bag on his dog's back and finished the healing spell again.

"The potion," Ashley prodded. John poured the potion into the woman's mouth. Ashley put a leg-locker curse on her and then removed the full body bind. It was easier to talk that way.

"Who are you?" Ashley asked.

"Jessica Fremont," the woman said.

"Who are you working for?" Ashley demanded.

"I don't know his name," Jessica said.

"What were you going to do with Charlotte?" John asked.

"I was to take her to our base in Missouri, USA," she said, clearly trying to fight the potion. Apparently, John was better at those than Ashley thought.

"Where in Missouri?" Ashley demanded.

"I don't know," Jessica said. "I only see a bunker."

The two siblings looked at each other, silently asking if there were any more questions. Ashley really wished Albus was here. He'd know what questions to ask. "Are there any more of you?" John asked.

"I've only ever seen my boss, me and the robots," Jessica said.

"Very well," Ashley said. She began to head back to Charlotte.

"What do we do with her?" John asked.

"What do you mean?" Ashley asked.

"She'll keep coming until she completes her mission," John said.

Ashley returned to his side. "We can't kill her," Ashley said painfully. She really wanted to.

"We could wipe her memory," John suggested.

"I can't do that spell," Ashley said.

"I can," John said.

"Wait! Please! No, I'll stay away, I promise!" Jessica shouted.

"She promised," John said, clearly not backing off the plan.

"She also threatened my baby," Ashley said. John just smiled as he performed the spell. The two of them walked back down the alley. "I think I'll take your offer to watch Charlotte now," she said. "Maybe Harry will send some aurors over too. I really don't want to leave her, but I need to find out what's going on."

"So much for that innocent walk we took," John said.


	11. Chapter 10: Back to the Yard

A/N: Many thanks to blaiseatmac for adding both me and the story! Welcome!

Many thanks also to ladyrayne13 for another review. Yes, Robots. There's a good reason for them and they are the strangest thing in the story (I think) so if you can handle them you should be good. Thanks for the reviews! I hope you continue to like the story.

Anyone else submits a review, I'll respond to them too. I'll read them, I promise!

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Chapter 10: Back to the Yard

Zachariah Johnson was starting to get used to the being-squeezed-through-an-inch-wide-tube-with-no-oxygen feeling that was apparating. But that didn't stop him from feeling relieved at seeing the facade of Scotland Yard standing in front of him. He was used to strange things, being a member of SIS made that happen. But it had been an unusual day even for him. He needed some familiar surroundings. Too bad his job made sure no one remembered him here.

He and Albus walked in the front doors and Zachariah flashed a SIS badge. It was so much easier now that SIS was public; well most of it. "I'm Agent James, this is Agent Jessie. We're headed for the lab," he said. The woman behind the desk nodded and motioned to the elevator.

"Why didn't she recognize you?" Zachariah asked as they walked to the elevator. "You did work here before you joined the case right?"

"The Ministry wiped me from the memory of the employees when I got reassigned," Albus told him. It was scary how infiltrated this Ministry of Magic was.

They rode the elevator in silence. The elevator door opened onto a glass hallway that was well lit in blue light. The sides of the hallway were made up of room after room of really expensive looking equipment and scientists leaning over them pulling their hair out. One looked up to see who was coming out of the elevator, but looked away again frowning. The two men walked down the hallway without even earning a first look, let alone a second. They were invisible.

Zachariah loved the place.

They walked toward the only person in the whole complex who could pick Zachariah out of a line: Sarah Walker-Robinson. She worked in the trace evidence department and she was a beautiful, thirty-ish woman who always had her red hair pulled back in a tight pony-tail with a few strands hanging loose across her face. If circumstances were different and those who he loved were not in danger, Zachariah would probably have asked her out years ago. Yeah, she was only a little older than his son would be, but that really wasn't that strange anymore. Of course, if things were different he'd probably be married. And his name would not be Zachariah. Eventually he'd convinced himself that she was off limits, but she'd still become like a daughter to him. He'd come to love her anyway, just not in the same way.

Zachariah knocked on the door to her lab before they entered. She looked up and smiled, locking her computer screen and running over to hug Zachariah. "Zachariah Johnson," she said, stepping back. "This is certainly a surprise. I don't remember the last time you actually came by before I said I had something."

"Well, my partner had some business here," Zachariah said. "Tell me you have something."

"I'm not a miracle worker," she said, faking offense. Zachariah just gave her a raised eyebrow. "Ok," she said, "I've isolated your nuclear sample so if you give me something to test against, we can try to match it."

"Get the sample from your friend," Zachariah said to Albus. Albus moved back down the hall. "What else?"

"Nothing," she said, skipping to her computer and unlocking it. She switched files to a program that was running a fingerprint. "This is the fingerprint you pulled from the storage at Fort Charles. I've been running it for three weeks and am getting nothing. I've run it through the known criminal database of both England and the United States, the military database for His Majesty, even Interpol and I've got nothing. This is the database for Save the Whales protesters. No matches."

"Try running it against the general population," Albus said. "James is on his way down."

"The general database?" Sarah asked.

"Yeah, they've been recording fingerprints on babies for decades," Albus said.

"Yes they have. That's exactly why it takes about three weeks to run it against the database, if you're lucky," Sarah said.

"Humor him," Zachariah said.

"You're not seriously suggesting I do that are you?" Sarah asked.

"What if you exclude the people you've already checked?" Zachariah asked.

"That might work," she said, turning back to the computer. She pushed some buttons and the machine emitted some beeps and whistles as she started the search.

The elevator beeped and the man Zachariah assumed was James emerged from within, holding a newspaper under his right arm and a vial of dirt in his left hand. The man looked exactly like Albus. Zachariah thought they must be brothers. Albus caught his eye and he began moving toward them. "Pull up the uranium test," Albus said.

"Ok," Sarah said, doing as told.

"You got a way to tint these windows, right?" Zachariah said.

"Yeah," she said.

"Do it," he said.

"Can she be trusted?" Albus asked.

"I trust her with my life," Zachariah said.

The windows turned black with the push of a button as James entered the room. He gave the vial of dirt to Albus and he gave it to Sarah. "Test this against it," he said.

"It needs to separate. It takes three weeks...what is that?" she said. Albus wasn't listening. He had pulled his wand and was placing protective spells on each of them.

"Radiation protection," Albus said. Zachariah's eyes told her not to ask. Sarah put the vial on a piece of equipment and Albus placed his wand on it. The vial unsealed and the dirt swirled and swished inside. Slowly, it rose from the vial and separated into different colored layers, rising three feet in the air. Then it reversed and settled into the vial, still in the layers. "It's separated," he said.

"That was..." Sarah began.

"Magic," Zachariah said. "Don't tell anyone."

"You have my word," she said in a tone that said they'd discuss it later. She started the machine. "Where did this come from?"

"Tel Aviv," Albus said as if it didn't matter.

"That was quick. What did you hop a spy plane there and back?" she asked.

"Something like that," Albus said.

"It's still going to take a while," she said when she noticed everyone looking at the computer.

"So, what's the paper for?" Albus asked James.

"Third page," James said, handing it to Albus. The paper was the day's Daily Prophet. Albus flipped to the page and chuckled. The headline read "Muggles react to magically cleaning vomit at the Western Wall."

"Know anything about that?" James asked skeptically. Albus handed the paper back with only a smile.

His phone rang. "That phone's archaic," Sarah said as he pulled the large flip phone out.

"I didn't get it for Angry Birds," Albus said as he flipped it open. "Hello," he said.

Zachariah couldn't hear the other end of the conversation, but he could figure out what was going on. And he didn't think he liked it. Albus' face lit up when he answered the phone, indicating that his wife was on the other end. The "honey" he said every once in a while confirmed it. But Albus' face dropped very quickly in the conversation. Zachariah had warned him. The job had dangers.

Albus hung up the phone and turned away into a corner of the room. No one said anything. They had all seen the look on his face and they all knew something was wrong. Ten minutes later, he turned and addressed Zachariah and James in turn.

"Ashley's been attacked," he said. "She's okay for now. She's heading to the Ministry to stay in touch."

"I'm sorry," James said. "I should have been there."

"She said her attacker was going to take her somewhere in Missouri," Albus said to Zachariah. "Does Missouri ring any bells to you?"

"Nothing," Zachariah said.

"Yeah," James said. "The SIS has a file on an Air Force Base there."

"You've read SIS files?" Zachariah asked, irritation creeping into his voice.

"We do what we have to do," James said returning the irritation.

"That's what tyrants say," Zachariah said loud enough for only him to hear.

"What's the base?" Albus asked.

"I don't remember," James said. "Something with a color in it."

Sarah jumped onto her computer and opened a search program. "Whiteman Air Force Base," she said. "It's American, what business do we have there?"

"A joint program," James said. "We've sent people to get trained with some special bomber housed there. There's been one to two British soldiers housed there for decades; since they were training on the old B-2."

"We could be looking for a British soldier," Zachariah said. "Maybe, our guy -"

"Or gal," Sarah interrupted, anticipating Zachariah's words.

"Or gal," Zachariah repeated, "was stationed at this Whiteman, or white-woman, Base." Zachariah shot her a look, but she smiled in return. She stuck out her tongue for good measure.

"We should probably check it out," Albus said.

"Right," Zachariah said. "I'll notify the State Department and see when we can get in."

"No time for that," James and Albus said simultaneously.

"Well, how do you plan to get in?" Zachariah asked. "You can't just walk into a high-security Air Force Base. Especially an American one."

"I wasn't planning on walking in," Albus said.

"Okay," Zachariah prodded. "Again, how are you planning on getting in?"

"How else do you enter an air force base?" Albus asked. "I plan to fly." He shoved Sarah gently out of the way and got onto the computer. James and Zachariah flanked him while Sarah came up behind him saying something about it being her lab and wanting it back. Albus had pulled up a program that would have looked at home on an ancient DOS computer. "Here," Albus said. "There's a flight scheduled from London tomorrow morning."

"And it's also booked," Zachariah said. "Two passengers and no one else."

"How did you know how to get on that program?" Sarah asked.

"Well I wasn't expecting a commercial flight," Albus said, ignoring her.

"We can get on the flight," James said.

"Why was I expecting that answer?" Zachariah said to no one in particular. Everyone ignored him.

"James, can I borrow your batch?" Albus asked.

"Hello..." Sarah said. "Beautiful woman here who'd really like her lab back." Zachariah looked at her apologetically. He noticed that James smiled like he'd heard.

"Used it last night," James said. "I'll get you another one though. Go see your wife. I owe you a favor anyway."

"Thanks, bro. Meet me out front an hour before flight," Albus said. "That's five o'clock."

"O-500," Zachariah corrected.

"O-500," Albus said, beginning to search randomly online.

"Does this mean I can have my lab back?" Sarah asked.

"Oh, right," Albus said, pushing three keys on the keyboard and returning the computer to the home screen. Zachariah gave Sarah a quick hug before following James and Albus out of the lab. James apologized to Sarah as he left.

Sarah waited until the three men had left the lab before pulling up the internet and checking the history. It was blank. She smiled. "Nice try," she said, loading up the hard-drive's history. It was blank too. She sighed and fell back into her chair. "Really nice try," she said.


	12. Chapter 11: Riddle, Riddle

A/N: Thanks to ladyrayne13 for another review! I look forward to that email every time. I had fun tourturing Sarah during that last chapter. You should really love this chapter too...

As always, I welcome any and all reviews :-)

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Chapter 11: Riddle, Riddle

Zachariah Johnson hung up his phone and stood next to Albus outside Scotland Yard after Albus had said good night to James. "What do we do now?" Albus asked him.

"You've been leading us for almost 20 hours," Zachariah said. "You don't know?"

"I'm new at this," Albus said. "I feel like we should be doing something between now and the flight."

"Yeah, you should," Zachariah said.

"What?" Albus asked.

"Go home," Zachariah said. "Spend some time with your daughter." He started walking away.

"Where are you going?" Albus asked.

Zachariah stopped in the first parking space, just across the fire lane. "An old case," he said.

"You're working two cases?" Albus asked, catching up.

"No," Zachariah said, walking away again. "Just something I do in my free time."

"What case?" Albus said, catching up again.

"The one my partner was working on when he died," Zachariah said getting more irritated.

"Your partner was working two cases," Albus said.

Zachariah stopped and took a deep breath. "No one works two cases. We work one case. But, some of us work on side projects in our free time: unsolved cases that won't leave us alone."

"So, it's a cold case," Albus said.

"Very cold," Zachariah said.

"Older than me?" Albus asked.

"Older than your father," Zachariah said. "Older than me honestly." He started walking again.

"What's the case?" Albus asked.

"It's a murder, okay? My partner's father was the county sheriff at the time. He investigated it. He made an arrest, but the guy got off because they couldn't figure out a cause of death. My partner bought the house where the murder happened. He'd hoped to finish what his father started. He believed modern science would solve anything."

"And you were helping?" Albus asked.

"Not until he died," Zachariah said. "Look, go home, please."

"Not until you give me the name of the dead person," Albus said.

"Fine," Zachariah said. "Three names. Tom and Mary Riddle and their son -"

"Tom Riddle Jr," Albus finished.

"You know the name?" Zachariah asked, taken aback.

"I know him as Tom Riddle Sr. Few wizards know about the grandfather. I know the killer too," Albus said. "But you don't seem too happy about that, which means you aren't really investigating your partner's case are you."

"What magic did you use to determine that?" Zachariah said.

"No magic. Eyes," Albus said. "The greatest magic has always been knowledge. You have more of that than me right now." Zachariah snorted and began walking again. "Wait, you said your partner bought the house when it went on the market?" Albus asked catching up again. They were almost at the end of the parking lot now.

"Yes, he did," Zachariah said.

"He died there didn't he," Albus said. Zachariah stopped. "You're not investigating his father's case, you're investigating his murder. That's the case that won't leave _you_ alone."

"And I suppose you've solved that one too and forgot to tell me?" Zachariah asked, not even trying to hide the anger in his voice now.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Albus asked.

"Well, it seems like there are a lot of cases your kind solved and forgot to tell us," Zachariah said.

"Would you have believed us if we had?" Albus asked.

"No," Zachariah said after a long pause, his tone lowering a bit. "And they won't believe me on this one."

"Okay. But we may be able to help you on your partner's murder," Albus said.

"How?" Zachariah asked sincerely as he started walking again.

"I'll have to call my father. He has the power to check the security tapes," Albus said.

"There was no security footage, I've checked," Zachariah said, arriving at a helipad on the edge of the parking lot. A Helicopter stood waiting for him.

"Nothing you could access. Even I can't access it. But my father can," Albus said. He nodded toward the helicopter. "Is that how you're getting to Little Covington?"

"Yes," Zachariah said. "But it doesn't have room for three."

"That's ok," Albus said. "You're right; I need to see my wife and daughter. I'll have my father meet you at the Riddle House."

"All right," Zachariah said. He walked to the helicopter and began to close the door, but stopped suddenly. "And Albus, thanks. Thanks for everything."

"Hey, you're my partner," Albus said with truth in his eyes.

* * *

The helicopter landed just outside a small graveyard down the hill from the Riddle House, as Albus had called it. Even from a hundred feet in the air, Zachariah noticed the shape of Harry Potter standing outside the front door. Either he was waiting for Zachariah or he was as afraid of the house as the locals.

"Mr. Potter," Zachariah said, nodding to him a few minutes later as he approached.

"Agent Clay," Harry said. Zachariah smiled.

"I'm afraid that's not my real name," Zachariah said. "And since you're helping me so much, I think you deserve the truth. My name's Zachariah Johnson."

"Agent Johnson," Harry said in the same tone as before. "Albus said you have new info on the murder of your partner Mr. Acker. I'm heading that investigation. What is it?"

Zachariah pointed to the house. "The house?" Harry asked. "What about it?"

"He died here," Zachariah said. "In the drawing room."

Harry's eyes lit up. "That is a break indeed. A huge break."

"Sorry, I still don't quite understand what's going on here," Zachariah said. "Why is it a break? The house confounded my partner for twenty years researching the Riddle's murders."

"Yes, I bet it did," Harry said walking toward the house.

"Albus said he knew who did that," Zachariah prodded, following him. He was going to get to the bottom of this.

"Yes," Harry said. "It was Tom Riddle."

"I'm afraid you're mistaken," Zachariah said, stopping at the door. "Tom Riddle was the one who died."

"Actually, he was two of the ones who died if I'm not mistaken," Harry said. "But there was a third Tom Riddle here that night. Did your partner ever mention that the younger Riddle was married?"

"Yes," Zachariah said. "But he returned a few months later claiming his wife had bewitched him."

"Love potion," Harry said. "And a powerful one. She released him from it a few months into the marriage and he promptly left her. But in that time, he'd fathered a child whom she named Tom Marvolo Riddle. This Tom Riddle came here sixteen years later and confronted the father who'd left him. He entered the house, most likely tortured the Riddles and then killed them, framing his mother's brother for the crime. That encounter made him immortal, or so he thought," (there was a grin when Harry said this), "and it was after that encounter that he fashioned the name Lord Voldemort."

"And I suppose your Ministry punished him," Zachariah said.

"The Ministry tried, but he was very elusive. My family killed him though," Harry said. "Three times now actually. Although, technically he fired the shot all three times." Zachariah ignored that one.

"How is that relevant to my partner's murder?" Zachariah asked, trying to keep up as Harry began walking again.

"It's not," Harry said. "What is relevant is that Lord Voldemort returned to the house in 1994 to be reborn the first time. In 1995, Voldemort tried to kill me in the graveyard you parked your helicopter in and we became aware of his plans."

"You seem so nonchalant about him trying to kill you," Zachariah said.

"He tried to kill me for the first seventeen years of my life," Harry said. "I kind of got used to it."

"So, how does that help us on my partner's case again?" Zachariah asked. They were headed up stairs now.

"After we discovered that Voldemort planned to use the house again, Professor Dumbledore had the auror Kingsley Shacklebolt place magical security recording spells throughout the house, in case he came back again."

"Dumbledore? Shacklebolt?" Zachariah asked.

"Sorry, Albus Dumbledore was kind of our leader. Kingsley Shacklebolt was one of the most important aurors in the Ministry from 1994-98. Shacklebolt made sure that only he and Dumbledore could access the recordings, but Dumbledore made him include me as well. He knew I'd be on my own at the end, and might need them."

"This isn't the same Shacklebolt in those conspiracy theories is it?" Zachariah asked.

"He became Minister of Magic and used his power very persuasively," Harry said almost apologetically.

"And these spells he set, are they still in place?" Zachariah asked, looking around more intently now.

"As long as I'm alive," Harry said.

"And we might be able to see the attacker on them?" Zachariah asked.

"No," Harry said. "They're not video cameras. But we can hear what he or she said and what spells were used, where they came in and how they left." They were in the master bedroom now. "It's all here," Harry said. "Supposedly there is a place where we can listen to these without retrieving them from the house but I've never been able to find it." He opened the closet and tapped his wand on the back wall. Immediately, it popped loose and dust flew everywhere. Harry summoned a small breeze to blow the dust away and moved the entire back wall out of the closet.

Behind it was a massive stereo device. Six Sony recording devices stood side by side. Each had at least twenty cassette tapes inside, two or three on one side, one in the middle and about seventeen to the other side. Harry moved forward and collected the smaller side of tapes from each device.

"Cassette tapes?" Zachariah asked.

Harry smiled. "This was cutting edge technology in '95," he said.

"No it wasn't," Zachariah said.

Harry smiled. "Shacklebolt figured that Voldemort would recognize the spells quickly and deactivate them. But he hoped that by using muggle recording systems, Voldemort wouldn't be able to find the tapes."

"Did it work?" Zachariah asked.

"No idea," Harry said. "Voldemort never came back. I'll listen to these today and see what I can turn up."

"Once you find a tape player that is," Zachariah kidded.

"Right," Harry said chuckling. "I'll see if my father-in-law still has one. He's fascinated by muggles." Harry used a mocking tone for that last sentence. "A tape player sounds like the type of thing he'd collect," Harry said. "Now, Albus made me promise to make you rest, and I really don't want to use magic on you. You promise me you'll sleep today?"

"When did Albus become my father?" Zachariah asked, but his eyes said he would. Harry must have felt that was enough.

"Good luck," he said. He gave Zachariah a pat on the shoulder. Then he turned and was gone.

Zachariah headed back to the helicopter. He had a reservation at his apartment in London: a bed was calling.


	13. Chapter 12: Ticket to Ride

A/N: Many thanks to Guest for reviewing! I'm glad you liked it. Hopefully you'll like this one too.

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Chapter 12: Ticket to Ride

Albus Potter watched his brother pull up outside a London military airport in a silver BMW with something that looked vaguely female in the passenger seat. It was difficult to determine who it was with the sun just beginning to rise. Trust James to take a social call on the way. Or more likely the night before.

James parked with a squeal and stepped out of his car. Albus flashed a look inside but couldn't tell who the woman was. He shifted his gaze to his brother. James pulled a vial of potion from his pocket and handed it to Albus.

"Is it good?" Albus asked him before taking it.

"You doubt me?" James asked, acting offended.

"Let me rephrase. Who brewed it?" Albus said.

"If I said I did, would you take it?" James asked.

"No," Albus said.

"Smart," James said. "Aunt Hermione brewed it." Albus took the vial.

"Where's your partner?" James asked, looking around. He took the time to wave to the woman in the car.

Albus looked at his watch. It was still five till. "I wasn't expecting him early," Albus said. "He seems extremely punctual. Who's the friend?"

"A friend," James said. "You don't know her, I promise."

"Muggle?" Albus asked, raising his eyebrow questioningly.

"Durmstrang," James said. "I wouldn't show a potion to a muggle. I'm not that stupid."

"I'll choose not to comment on that," Albus said.

A taxi pulled up behind the BMW and stopped much more smoothly than James had. The back, passenger door opened and Zachariah stepped out, holding what looked like a briefcase in his hand. He paid the driver and the taxi pulled away quietly. Zachariah walked over.

"You're early," Zachariah said.

"You brought a bag," Albus said.

"You didn't," Zachariah observed. "How are you planning to collect evidence?" Albus just smiled at him. "So it wasn't just a dream," Zachariah said. It wasn't a question.

"Hands in the air!" a man said on the other side of the large, steel, rectangular gate. The gate was the only opening in a 10 foot concrete wall that looked like it surrounded the airport. The man was pointing an automatic weapon at them. "Identify yourselves!"

The three did as told. "We're SIS agents. We need entry," Zachariah said without any fear.

"Badges!" the man said.

"We'll have to take our hands down for that," Zachariah said.

The man looked confused for a second before saying "One at a time. Any funny business and I shoot one of the others."

"Um, I'm not entering," James said.

"Then leave," the man said. James didn't need to be told twice.

Zachariah dropped his left hand and reached into his back pocket. He produced his badge and handed it to the soldier. The soldier looked at it and then looked at him. He finally nodded and pointed his gun at him. "You," he said, nodding at Albus. Albus produced the badge the Director had given him and gave it to the soldier. He looked at it and compared the photo to Albus. After what seemed like an hour he dropped the gun. "What can I do for you gentlemen?" he asked.

Zachariah looked at Albus. "There's a flight leaving for the United States this morning. We need to speak with the soldier taking that flight," Albus said.

"Yes sir," the soldier said. He motioned to an unseen booth and the gate opened, noisily rolling behind the concrete wall. The two walked inside the airport. "I'll have him meet you in that hangar to your left. There's a small office there."

The two walked quickly to the office and waited for the soldier. Zachariah set his briefcase down on the long, rectangular table and sat down next to it. They didn't wait long before the door swung open and an irritated looking man stepped through the door. He was well built, the lights reflecting off his tanned skin. He wore the uniform impeccably and straightened it after closing the door. He stared at Zachariah and asked, "What can I do for MI6?" turning the last word into a curse.

Albus answered. "We need to get on your flight."

"No," the man answered flatly.

"No?" Zachariah asked with genuine surprise. He rose from his seat slowly. "You do know who you're dealing with?"

"I'm dealing with MI6," the man snarled. "However, the flight and base it is flying to is American. Were you FBI or AFOSI, the answer might be different. But you're not and therefore have no jurisdiction. The answer is no."

Zachariah sat down again and turned to Albus. "You got a Plan B?" he asked.

Albus met the man's gaze and held it for almost a minute. "I'm going to rephrase my statement. We will be joining you on that flight. It's not a request."

"Over my dead body," the man said.

"That won't be necessary," Albus said. He could see the fear creeping into his partner's body language. Zachariah believed he would do it. He believed they both would.

"Excuse me?" the soldier asked. He moved toward a revolver on his hip.

Albus' drew his wand without even a flinch and raised it before the soldier could even react. "You're in way over your head, _sir_," he said, spitting the last word out with the same contempt the man used for MI6. "We're getting on that flight with or without you."

"Albus..." Zachariah began but couldn't finish. The soldier reached for his gun and a red spell shot from Albus' wand and hit the man in the chest. The man flew back and slammed into the wall between two windows and slid down, crumpling on the floor.

Zachariah ran to the man and checked for a pulse. Relief flushed over his face as Albus returned his wand to the holster. "What did you do to him?" Zachariah asked.

"Stunned him," Albus said, moving to him and plucking out some hair. He pulled out the vial he'd received from James and placed the hairs inside. The potion bubbled. "I was hoping it wouldn't be necessary. We'll need to take his uniform."

"What?" Zachariah asked, voice full of shock.

"We'll need his uniform," Albus repeated. He began to strip himself while Zachariah pulled the man's uniform off of him and handed it to Albus. Albus changed into the uniform and conjured a bathrobe to put around the man. The uniform swam on him. Albus nodded approval and took the man's canteen. He emptied it and put the potion inside. He took a small drink.

The potion was just as terrible as he remembered from Auror school. But it worked. His insides began to swarm like snakes were having a fight over his stomach contents and then a burning sensation flew through his bloodstream, flooding his body. His skin began to boil as his fingers lengthened, his skin darkened and he filled out the uniform nicely. The two wand holsters expanded like elastic on his arms and he loosened the sleeves on the blue shirt to let the wands come out.

Albus looked at Zachariah, who was truly speechless sitting next to the man Albus now looked like. "You able to do this?" Albus asked.

"This Sargent Murray isn't the only one in over his head," Zachariah said, moving for the first time in minutes. His joints appeared to be locking on him.

"Sargent Murray, is that his name?" Albus asked, looking in the window as a mirror.

"So you're on the plane. What about me?" Zachariah asked.

"Well, I'd planned to put a spell on you that would make light bend around you, essentially making you invisible, but your briefcase will make that worthless," Albus said.

"English," Zachariah said.

"A camouflage spell," Albus said. "But it won't work on your briefcase."

"I'm taking the briefcase, it's the only way I can be useful on this case," Zachariah said.

"I know that. I just wish I could have made you invisi - " Albus suddenly stopped. "Of course, there's more than one way to make someone invisible."

"Why don't I like where this is going?" Zachariah asked. Albus ignored him and pulled a large, fluid cloth from a pocket strapped to his back. He'd forgotten about the silvery cloak, but it would be very beneficial now. He gave it to Zachariah. "What do I do with this?" he asked.

"It's a cloak," Albus said, "you put it on." Zachariah did so.

And then he threw it off again.

Albus chuckled. "It's an invisibility cloak," he said. "But it only works if you wear it."

There was a knock on the door and a voice they didn't recognize spoke on the other side. "Sargent, we need to take off," the voice said.

Albus didn't remove his gaze from Zachariah. "Keep that cloak on. If he sees any part of you, it's all for naught."

"Right," Zachariah said, grabbing his briefcase and putting the cloak around him. Albus opened the door right as the man was beginning to knock again. He looked into the room.

"The guard said that you were speaking with someone," he said.

"They won't be a problem," Albus said. The man continued to look. "We were leaving?" Albus prompted.

"Yes," the man said. Albus guessed he was the pilot. He wasn't wearing a British uniform. "Everything is ready."

The man led Albus out of the hangar and around behind it. The airport opened up to show a pair of long runways with about ten hangars on each side. The hangars were similar to the one he had just left, only a little smaller. The hangar they'd left was larger and set off to the side. Albus guessed it was the headquarters for what he was beginning to see was a small base.

Albus could only hope that Zachariah was following them.

At the end of the nearest runway a large cargo plane was idling ready for takeoff. The pilot led Albus toward the plane wordlessly. "I understand you are an engineer with limited flying experience," the pilot said. "That means you sit in the back and leave me alone."

"Yes, sir," Albus said mockingly, only barely able to hide his relief. He'd been wondering how he could avoid helping fly this plane.

The pilot stopped and faced him. Albus had to stifle a laugh. The man was at least six inches shorter than he was. "This isn't funny. This plane takes exact calculations just to keep it in the air. It's a very high tech machine that takes years of practice to even get a chance to sit in that cockpit. Any miscalculation at all can and you'll find yourself burning in a crash. I swear, if you mess - "

"You worried about flying too close to a super nova, Han?" Albus asked, interrupting him. He started to respond but Albus put up his hand and shut him up. "I'll stay in the back, don't worry. You'll be flying Solo."

The man shot him a look of pure hatred, or at least annoyance, but didn't argue. He motioned to a door in the side of the plane and entered a second door a little closer to the cockpit. Albus approached the large plane, noticing the American flag painted prominently on the green side of the plane. "You still there partner?" Albus asked, general enough to ensure that anyone listening in wouldn't understand the question.

"You really went with the Solo line?" Zachariah asked. Albus smiled.

"After you," Albus said. He just barely saw Zachariah's feet slip into the plane before he began to climb. He raised the stairs and the plane got darker. Albus looked around. The pilot had closed the door to the cockpit, sealing the room off. There was a light hanging in the middle of the plane that provided a dim, yellow glow. There were seats lining the edge of the plane and boxes were strapped all around what Albus recognized as the hold. "Zachariah, you'll be able to take the cloak off for the trip," Albus said.

"Yeah," Zachariah said, pulling the cloak off across the room from Albus.

"Buckle up, engineer," the pilot said over an intercom system.

"It's sir!" Albus yelled.

"I'm American, I can call you what I want," the pilot said over the system again. Albus and Zachariah buckled in next to each other. "Ever been to America?" Albus asked.

"Yeah," Zachariah said. "Most recently in 2022. We assisted the FBI in investigating an explosion in Salem, Massachusetts."

"Hmm," Albus said, looking away too quickly.

"They never solved it," Zachariah said. "Don't tell me you know who did that one too."

"Alright, I won't tell you," Albus said.

"Who did it? Not Voldemort again?" Zachariah asked.

"No," Albus said. "No, that one was my fault."


	14. Chapter 13: Whiteman

A/N: Many thanks to ladyrayne13 for the review. And yes, he really stunned the Sargent and took polyjuice (but he didn't want to). Albus is not his father, that's for sure. He's willing to do anything to solve a case. I'm glad you like these chapters. You should like this one!

Sorry for taking all week to post this chapter.

Chapter 13: Whiteman

Sarah Walker-Robinson was supposed to be working. She had a few programs running on the computer and she had started a couple of the machines around her lab, but her thoughts were on the day before.

She had seen magic.

Of course, that was impossible. Magic was something that had a place in children's stories. It wasn't something that a veteran, respected scientist believed in. And yet, she had seen the dirt leap from a test tube with her own eyes. She had seen magic.

The elevator dinged. Sarah turned to see who it was and knew she was in for something again. One of the men who'd visited her lab the day before was walking down the hall. He caught her eye and smiled. He was coming to her.

She took a deep breath. She had determined not to fall in love at work, but there was something about this man. He was…cool. There was no other word to describe it. His red hair was shoulder length and straight yet unruly. His green eyes sparkled in the blue light of her lab and he walked with a confidence that she hadn't seen in someone with his intelligence.

A beaker she was heating to boiling point began to bubble and she reluctantly turned to watch it.

The man stopped outside the lab and knocked. She didn't even look, needing to be precise on her observations. He knocked again.

"Come in," she said without looking up from the beaker. It began to boil and steam and she finally moved, checking her watch and writing down a time in the journal she had on the table. She had journals scattered throughout the room just in case she needed to make a quick note with someone waiting. Finally she turned around. "You," she said softly. "Not again."

"I truly am sorry about yesterday," the man offered, not entering the lab. "My brother can get a little overboard if he thinks he knows something."

"A little?" she asked.

He grinned. "A lot overboard," he said.

Sarah laughed. "I presume you have a reason for coming down here Mr..."

"Potter, James Potter," James finished.

"Mr. Potter. I'm Technician Walker-Robinson," she said. How stupid did that sound?

"What kind of a name is Walker for a woman?" James asked.

She chuckled. "Walker-Robinson is my surname," she said. "My name's Sarah, but people don't call me that here. Mostly, they just call me Walker. I like it."

"My apologies, Walker. Um, I was kind of hoping you could help me with an investigation of mine," James said.

"I'm pretty overloaded on cases, but I can make room for something small," she said. "What do you want me to do?"

James produced a test-tube with a cotton swab inside. "I was hoping you could run some DNA through databases for me," he said.

"The computers do most of the work on that," she said, taking the test-tube from him. "But they take some time. You know that right?"

"How much time?" James asked.

"A few weeks, a month maybe. Depends on the database I'm running it through," Sarah said. "Unless your brother comes back and speeds it up for me."

"Magic can't speed up a computer," James said.

"Darn, I was kind of hopeful," she said. "Come on in, let's get this started." Suddenly, she placed the man. "Hey, aren't you one of the paper pushers upstairs? What case could you be working on?"

"It's my father's case," James said. "He's part of a secret government agency."

"Just like Zachariah," Sarah said. "Tell me about the case."

"A body was found on a military base," James said.

"Sounds just like Zachariah's case," Sarah said.

"I was trying not to make that obvious," James said. "Technically Zachariah and my brother found the body. They turned it over to my dad's agency," James said.

"Then it's my case," Sarah said. "You think the body's military?"

"No, he was in civilian clothes," James said. "And frozen in time. South Asian if that helps."

"Gives us a starting point," Sarah said, pushing some buttons on her keyboard.

"We couldn't identify him at all," James said. "We were hoping DNA could help."

"We?" she asked.

James blushed, and she knew that he'd said something he shouldn't have. "I work for my father's agency," he said. "Working upstairs is my cover."

"So this is your case?" she asked.

"No, my case is those files upstairs," he said.

"You don't lie much do you?" she asked, hitting enter with a flurry and turning around as the computer started the search.

"Not to smart people," James said.

Sarah laughed. "I like guys who don't lie to me," she said. An awkward silence followed. _It's now or never_, she thought. "Hey," Sarah finally said, breaking the silence. "I go to lunch at one. You could tell me more about that secret agency if you want. Provided you can get away from those important papers for a bit."

"Those papers wait for no man," James said. "But I think they can wait for a woman." Sarah chuckled. "I'll meet you in the lobby."

Albus Potter felt the plane descend and began to ready himself mentally for the task ahead. He hadn't been involved in an undercover mission like this since he'd investigated that grave robbery in New York. That mission had resulted in him getting hit with the killing curse, though his father had saved him. He still had a lightning shaped scar on his left arm that matched his father's.

"When we land, get that cloak on and stay close," Albus said. "If you feel the need to back me up, put the gun outside the cloak before you fire. I don't know if it will fire through the cloak."

"This isn't my first rodeo," Zachariah said.

"Just making sure we're on the same page," Albus said.

"You realize you look like yourself again, right?" Zachariah asked.

"Yeah," Albus said. "The potion works for an hour before you have to drink again. I'll take some more right before we get off."

The plane jerked as it hit the runway and Albus was thrown forward into his seatbelt as it stopped. Albus unbuckled as soon as the plane was slow enough and drank the potion. Zachariah waited until the plane came to a complete stop, grabbed his briefcase from the front of the plane and disappeared underneath the cloak.

Albus had just finished his transformation and straightened his uniform when the door opened and light flooded the room. After his eyes adjusted, Albus walked down the steps slowly and took in his surroundings.

Whiteman Air Force Base was huge. Seven runways crisscrossed the ground around him with countless hangars going out in all directions. Most of the hangars dwarfed even the headquarters of the airfield they'd left. At least ten barracks were clustered to Albus' left and three buildings that looked like administrative centers were scattered amongst the hangars. That was just what Albus could see.

A huge black plane came into view as it took off. The plane was triangular in shape, with angled corners all across its hull. It was at least a hundred yards wide. And it was loud, very, very loud. The plane rushed down the longest runway and took to the air faster than anything Albus had ever seen. Even as the plane began to shrink out of sight, the noise still rang in the air of the base. And then it was suddenly quiet.

"Sargent Murray, welcome to Whiteman," a man said at the base of the steps. He was flanked by seven men, but he was the only one wearing the blue uniform of the British Air Force. The rest were American. "That is the B-5 Bomber. The latest Stealth Bomber that the Americans will let us train on. It's the plane you will get to dissect. Exhilarating, isn't it?"

"Do I know you?" Albus asked. He wasn't planning on a Brit being here.

"Not yet," the man said as Albus descended the stairs. "Jeffery Cunningham, pilot. We'll be working together."

"I haven't had a great experience with pilots," Albus said.

"I'll bet not. I truly am sorry you had to fly with this clown," he said. "I suppose you're interested in where you'll be sleeping? The Americans have already gotten your bags from the back."

"That would be nice," Albus said. He followed the man through the base.

"Most of the base is restricted from us," Jeffery said as he led Albus through the maze of streets and hangars. "Only Barracks Six, Hangar Four and the mess hall can be entered alone."

"Which one's Hangar Four?" Albus asked.

"The big one over there," Jeffery said, pointing to his right. A large hangar dwarfed three other buildings and had a large black "4" painted on it.

"Why can we enter that one?" Albus asked.

"It's where they house the B-5 when it's not on mission," Jeffery said turning into the barracks cluster. Albus noticed numbers on the barracks buildings as well. "America has allowed His Majesty to use their almost best bombers since it was _Her_ Majesty and every one of the planes has been housed here in Hangar 4. They call it the Royal Pain in the Rear, since it's near the back of the base."

"Bet His Majesty likes that," Albus said.

"He did actually," Jeffery said. "It was Prince William who named the plane itself Royal Pain. Every one has been named that ever since."

Jeffery opened the door to Barracks Six and let Albus pass by. "The room to the right is all ours," he said. "I'll let you unpack."

Albus entered the specified room, holding the door open for a long time, and immediately noticed the strange mixture of scents. A teapot stood on a makeshift stove in the corner of the four-bed barrack and the air had the bitter taste of cheep tea. But it was mixed with the foul stench of unwashed body odor and cheep tobacco. Albus nearly threw up.

The four beds were bunked in pairs on either side of the room. A pile of suitcases stood opposite the teapot in the back. Albus suspected that the bags belonged to Sargent Murray. Along the walls were posters of naked and nearly naked women as well as a few of the small family of Jeffery Cunningham.

"I'll search the Sargent's bags," Zachariah's voice said.

"The good Sargent didn't recognize my wand," Albus said. "He wasn't involved." Albus began to move along the walls, running his hand slowly along them. He was looking, feeling, tasting for any sign of magic. Suddenly, the hair on his neck stood up on end and a tingle ran through his arm like he'd been shocked. He backed up.

He was standing in the middle of the right side wall, just past the beds. He touched the wall again and the feeling returned. A poster of a Liverpool cheerleader was on the wall. "You feeling something?" Zachariah asked.

"Yeah," Albus said. "It's old magic though." He drew his wand and waived it through the air. The wall shimmered and a worn down wooden door appeared slowly in it. The poster covered the doorframe and Albus pulled the poster off the wall. He grabbed the small black knocker that appeared to be the knob and pulled. The door didn't budge. He tried again and it squeaked open.

The room was dimly lit and massive, stretching magically back for what appeared to be almost a hundred meters. But there was no working light and as Albus entered the room he felt spider webs that probably littered it. He summoned a gentle breeze that brushed them back. He walked confidently into the room a few feet, searching for a light switch.

After about a minute he gave up and pointed his wand into the room, saying "_Lumos Maxima."_ A ball of light, giving off the light of a hundred-watt bulb, appeared at the end of his wand and he threw it into the room. It hovered fifty yards away, lighting the room.

Albus' shoulders slumped and he put his wand away. "A wine cellar," Zachariah's voice said beside him. The gun nozzle that Albus hadn't realized he'd seen disappeared back beneath the cloak. The room was full of bottles of wine, nestled on both sides for nearly seventy yards. Albus picked up the first bottle and looked at the date: 1985.

"Old wine," Albus said. "The room hasn't been disturbed for three decades. This isn't what we're looking for."

There was a knock at the barrack door. "Sargent, are you okay?" Jeffery called from just outside.

"Yeah," Albus called out. He turned the light out, and closed the door. The door magically returned to wall, but Albus didn't put the poster back up. "Just getting oriented," Albus said as he left the barracks building.

"Well, we've only got an hour until dinner," Jeffery said. "I was hoping to tour the hangar first."

"That sounds great," Albus said. The two men, with Zachariah hopefully in tow, left the barracks complex and headed for the massive hangar. "I moved your poster," Albus said to make conversation.

"Not my poster," Jeffery said. "Your predecessor left them. Didn't think his wife would be too happy with them. Do what you want with those pictures, but I bet you'll wish you had them in a month."

"I doubt it," Albus said.

They entered the hangar and the first thing that Albus saw was the massive black aircraft in front of him. "It wasn't the one flying?" Albus asked Jeffery.

"No," he said. "Only I fly Royal Pain. Come, let me show you to your office." They walked to the right of the plane and opened a well-hid door which led to a long, very white hallway. "I apologize for the size," Jeffery said. "It used to be my office, but since I'm senior now, I moved to the newer, larger, corner office down there." He pointed to the end of the hall. "You get the old one. The good news is you're in good company. This was the only office when the King visited here."

He opened the door and revealed a cozy, empty office. There was a small corner desk but it was laid out so that the person sitting at it could see the door. The computer was the only thing in the room. "I'll leave you to get your bearings. Dinner is in the mess hall in thirty minutes."

"How can I find the mess hall?" Albus asked.

"Follow the noise," Jeffery said. His cell phone rang and he pulled it out, waving good-bye to Albus as he left.

Albus had sensed magic the second he'd entered the room. Now he just had to find where the entrance was. "Did you feel it?" Zachariah asked as he appeared just to the side of the desk. "The magic? This room feels just like that hall in Fort Charles."

"Yes I felt it. Put the cloak back on, they might be back," Albus said. Zachariah looked strangely at him but did as told. Albus began to pace the outside walls, but felt nothing special. He knew it should be here, but he couldn't find a place where it was emanating. "I can't locate it," Albus said.

"It would be in a wall, right?" Zachariah asked.

"It'll probably be a door," Albus said. "Typically, people place those in a wall."

"Well, the wine cellar was from the 1980's, can we assume this would be as well?" Zachariah asked.

"It's possible," Albus said. "Our thief could have returned too."

"But if the room was from the 1980's, then the office would have gone through many occupants since it was hidden," Zachariah said.

"You're on a thought," Albus encouraged.

"If so, then this desk could have been moved," Zachariah offered. Something hit the desk.

"Yeah," Albus said. "And that would explain why I can't find it on the walls." Albus pushed the desk but it wouldn't budge.

"Albus," Zachariah said. "Are you a wizard or not?"

"Right," Albus said. He waved his wand and the desk lifted off the ground and swung around to the other side of the office. He set it down and walked up to the wall. He didn't even get near it before he knew Zachariah was right. He tapped his wand on the wall and said "Reveal your secrets." At first the wall did nothing, and then a thin black line began to be drawn from Albus' left. It went from the floor about eight feet in the air and then turned to finish a regular sized doorframe. Albus waited for the wooden door to fill in the frame, but nothing happened.

"You gonna go?" Zachariah asked to Albus' left.

"I was waiting for the rest of it," Albus said.

"The handle is there on the right. I think it's supposed to blend in, even when showing," Zachariah said. Albus nodded. He noticed the gun nozzle pointing out again and pulled open the door.

He wasn't surprised when the body dropped from the door. The signature of the spell work was unique. He also wasn't surprised to be looking at a small broom closet. He started to walk toward the closet.

"Albus," Zachariah said. "When did he get here?"

Albus turned around and looked at the body that had fallen out of the door.

Deja vù struck. He was looking into the exact same person, the same South Asian face, even the same suit that had fallen out of the door in Fort Charles. Albus shook his head. "How would he get here?" he asked. "I think it's a twin." Albus waved his wand and the body turned a bright, neon blue then dimmed and vanished. "We'll deal with that later," Albus said. He raised his wand and stepped through the closet wall.

Steps led down to a much smaller than expected concrete door. Albus took three minutes to figure out the magical combination on the door and finally opened it. It was a sign of the seriousness of the situation that Zachariah didn't make some sarcastic comment.

Albus walked in the door and flipped the light switch. Zachariah gasped. The door revealed an arena sized concrete bunker with a desk in the left corner and a queen sized bed in the other corner of the far wall. The desk held a small laptop that was open but didn't appear to be on. But between the door and the bed were twelve round metal balls. They were resting on metal sawhorses, three each, and Albus guessed they were magically strengthened to hold the massive metal balls.

It was the nukes.

"We found them," Zachariah said with awe clear in his voice. "The nukes." He let the cloak fall off of him and walked into the room. Albus remained in the door, feeling himself shrink back to his true form. "We found them," Zachariah said again as he slumped against the wall closest to the door.


	15. Chapter 14: Found and Lost

A/N: Thanks to ladyrayne13 for the latest review. You keep me going (as slow as it is going).

Now the fun begins...

Chapter 14: Found and Lost

Albus slumped against the doorframe looking at the twelve nukes before him. "We're going to need evidence on this one," Albus said.

"This branch of SIS doesn't deal in evidence," Zachariah said.

"The world knows we've lost the nukes. It needs to know we found them," Albus insisted.

"Right," Zachariah said. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed a number. He put his phone to his ear, but quickly put it down again. "I'm getting nothing," he said.

"Probably too much magic," Albus said. He pulled out his own phone and dialed the Director's number. It rang. Albus waited for a second ring when the unthinkable happened.

One of the metal balls lit the room with a blinding blue light. It held, lighting the room for several seconds before, just as suddenly as it had lit up, it became a dull metal ball again. Then it disappeared.

"Hawthorne," the Director's voice said on the other end of the line. "Who is this?"

Albus said nothing, too stunned to move. "They're portkeys," he finally said.

"I'm sorry," the Director asked. "What are portkeys?"

"I'm sorry, Director. It's Albus Potter. We found the bombs but one of them just activated like a portkey."

Zachariah looked at him strangely and he motioned that they'd discuss it later.

"That's not good," the Director said.

"No," Albus said.

"And it just got worse," the Director said. "News is reporting a bomb went off."

"Where?" Albus asked quickly.

"Washington D.C.," Hawthorne said. "Get yourselves there and figure out what's going on, that's an order. I'll have a team meet you there on the next flight." Albus heard the Director hang up on him.

"What just happened?" Zachariah asked. "It's gone."

"It's gone off. We've been ordered to D.C.," Albus said. "A nuke just went off."

"What happened?" Zachariah said.

"The bombs are portkeys," Albus said.

"Is that bad?" Zachariah said.

"Very. You remember what I did to that body? I turned him into a portkey: it magically transported him without me having to do anything," Albus said.

"Okay," Zachariah said.

"A portkey can be set to activate several different ways, one of which is by timer. Whoever stole these bombs turned them into portkeys. It means that he can set a timer on the bombs and then set a portkey to activate seconds before the bomb goes off. He can then go anywhere in the world for an alibi and the bomb will move itself to the target and go off within seconds of arriving. We're just lucky he hid them in so public a place. He could have built a base in Antarctica with the same results."

"How do you defend that?" Zachariah asked.

"You find the bombs," Albus said. "There's no other way to defend it."

"You said the bomb went off in Washington?" Zachariah asked. "That doesn't make sense. It should have gone off in Tehran."

"You once said that every bomb that went off would give us a clue as to who this person was," Albus said. "This one still does. He's given up going for the muggle war. Now he's trying to start a magical one."

"I don't understand," Zachariah said.

Albus sighed. "For the last decade the British and American magical governments have been...in disagreement," he said. "Like all magical disagreements, it's started to move into the muggle world. You may have noticed. The current administrations have begun to mend the relationship. But this won't help. In Israel, announcing that it was a British bomb mended the situation; here it will only make it worse. I'm not even sure how smart it is for us to show up in Washington."

"So, what do we do?" Zachariah asked.

"We call my father," Albus said. "He's better at politics than I am."

Just as Albus pulled the phone back out of his pocket, he heard a large bang from up the stairs. He met Zachariah's gaze and instinctively Zachariah grabbed the cloak and put it back on. Albus pulled his wand and went up the stairs. He could feel Zachariah behind him.

A man appeared at the top of the stairs pointing an automatic weapon down at them. Albus froze. "They're here," the man said.

"Don't shoot first," Albus said quietly. Zachariah grunted acknowledgment.

"Well, you look different," Jeffery said, appearing at the door. "Got a call from England. Turns out Sargent Murray is recovering nicely from some sort of attack. He's claiming he was attacked by two men, one of whom fits your current description." He pointed a pistol at Albus. "Where's your partner?"

"Home," Albus said quickly. "He stayed home."

Jeffery clicked his weapon. "No, no he didn't. No one has left the airfield and a complete search has been done of both the airfield and your plane. Your partner is here. Where is he?!" Jeffery waved the weapon at Albus.

"You won't shoot me," Albus said. "You need my information."

Jeffery smiled. "No I don't. I've already solved the case. This is a new case. I think I'll search the base. I'll find your partner eventually. He'll tell me what I need to know. I don't even know what you are. I don't need you." Jeffery stepped back and five American soldiers with automatic weapons blocked the door. "Open fire," Jeffery said.

Albus just managed to summon his shield before the guns started firing. The spell was simple enough in theory, creating a force field of air and water that blocked all physical objects. But it was draining: like a patronus it needed to be kept up with metal focus and each bullet sent a jolt through his nervous system. Most wizards wouldn't even be able to summon one, let alone hold it for more than a minute against automatic weapons. Creating a large one is left for only the most powerful wizards.

Albus' shield covered the entire hallway. The guns fired for a minute and then stopped. Albus lowered the shield and waved when the smoke cleared. Jeffery stood at the top of the stairs and shook his head in disbelief. "Impossible," he said simply.

"I'll be going now," Albus said.

Jeffery stepped back and said "Fire everything."

The Americans opened fire again and Albus reconjured the shield. But it was smaller this time. Albus heard Zachariah open fire behind him and saw his bullets bounce off the shield and almost hit Albus.

"Hey!" Albus said. "No firing!"

"Well I want to do something useful!" Zachariah said.

"This shield will block the bullets. Once they're done, we can get out of here," Albus said.

"They said fire everything," Zachariah said. "This is a military base. Assuming they didn't call in backup, that's gonna be at least twenty minutes. Can you hold out that long?"

Albus didn't think so. "What's your plan?" he asked.

"I shoot back. I hit one of them and it confuses them long enough for you to do your magical transportation thing," Zachariah said.

"And you think you can hit them from this far away shooting blind?" Albus asked.

"They're standing at the door at the top of the stairs. It won't be that hard," Zachariah said.

"Left side, there's a small gap, maybe a couple of inches wide," Albus said. Zachariah's gun appeared to his left and he unloaded a full clip. Albus was glad to hear that someone upstairs was hit. Though the sound was way too close. A body rolled up onto the shield. Albus barely held as Zachariah unloaded another round into the smoke. He pulled the gun back again to reload.

And then Albus heard the sickening, dull thud of a bullet piercing flesh. A short shocked breath emitted from where Zachariah was standing and then Albus felt the man fall on the step next to him."

"No!" Albus shouted. Albus dropped the shield and dove next to Zachariah. He was able to find him as bullets flew above his head like a blanket. He pointed his wand up the stairs and shouted "_Expecto Patronum!" _A shining white owl flew from his wand and up the stairs, flying across the hall in quick succession. The guns stopped firing and Albus grabbed what he hoped was Zachariah's arm and turned, leaving the staircase and bunker far behind.

Two hours later, Albus was pacing inside a windowless room at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, slowly wearing a path around the square table and its four chairs. The nurse had instructed him to sit down, but he didn't. He couldn't. He wasn't sure if this was a waiting room or a psych-ward. He half expected Gilderoy Lockhart to come through the door asking if he wanted an autograph. And he wouldn't have blamed the nurse if she had put him in the psych-ward.

He had apparated just outside the little shop front that was St. Mungo's entrance. He convinced the manikin to open the small garage door just to the right of the shop that served as an emergency entrance and had gotten Zachariah onto a bed before the nurse arrived. Then he tried to explain to her that there was a man who was badly injured on the bed, that the man was under an invisibility cloak, and that it was vitally important she not remove the clock in order to operate on him. Oh, and he was a muggle who'd been injured by a muggle weapon. The more he thought about it, the more sure he was that they'd put him in the psych-ward. But he still had his wands, so maybe not.

The door opened and the person Albus least expected to see walked in. "Scorpius," Albus said, greeting the man walking in. Scorpius was wearing the lime green robe of a St. Mungo's healer. He'd always worn green well.

"There are times I wonder just how your family gets so lucky," Scorpius said, motioning for Albus to sit.

"What do you mean?" Albus asked as he sat down. Scorpius sat opposite him and laid a folder down on the table between them.

"Well, normal procedure is to remove an invisibility cloak so we can see to heal," Scorpius said. "Anyone else would have done so."

"Tell me you didn't," Albus said.

Scorpius shook his head. "The nurse you talked to thought it would be funny to give the trainee 'the case of the invisible, muggle friend of the great Albus Potter.'" He used his hands to create quote marks around the title. "So she gave the case to me as a final test. Thus you got the only healer in this place that knows just which Cloak of Invisibility you happen to own. I didn't take it off."

"So he'll live?" Albus asked.

"Provided no one disobeys my order," Scorpius said. "But I don't know how 'there' he will be. He's lost a lot of blood and while we can regrow brains, we can't magically replace the mind." He opened the folder. It contained several photographs that showed nothing but blood seeping onto the hospital bed. "The nurse said he'd been shot so I tried to summon the bullet but got nothing. Probably went straight through him. I'm not sure how bad it is until I can take the cloak off, but with this much blood the odds are good he got shot through the heart. I put some spells on him that will circulate his blood and hopefully begin to heal the vital organs. We'll have to wait until his heart heals before we can take the cloak off. Of course, once the cloak is off we'll be able to heal him in minutes. That should be a week at most. But like I said, there's no knowing how conscious or cognizant he'll be then."

Scorpius got up to leave. "Hey, Scorpius," Albus said. Scorpius stopped and turned around. "Where is he? Can I see him?"

Scorpius nodded. "Yeah," he said. He stopped at the door and turned around. "Let me show you to his room."


	16. Chapter 15: Answers

Many thanks to isayLOL for following the story. Also thanks to ladyrayne13 for the review! I do not mind (in fact I would encourage) notifications about typos. I edit many times but sometimes things slip through. You'll see that the two you pointed out are fixed. As for the cloak: Albus acquired Harry's Invisibility Cloak in the prequel to this story. That is a Deathly Hallow which makes it impossible for Death to find anyone wearing it. In essence, someone wearing the cloak cannot die but if the cloak was removed while his heart was still being healed Death would then be able to find him so he would then be able to die. I hope that clears things up. There was another explanation attempt in this chapter so maybe that will help.

Enjoy!

Chapter 15: Answers

Albus was asleep in a recliner at St. Mungo's. The "room" was a long ward with three beds. Albus knew, at least when he was awake, that a muggle hospital would have tons of beeping equipment attached to the bodies, but there was nothing like that here. It was one of the benefits of magic. The first two beds were empty but the third, closest to the narrow window on the far wall, held the weight of the invisible Zachariah Johnson. Zachariah's personal belongings were piled on a nightstand between the bed and Albus' recliner. Healers had come and gone but the combined efforts of Albus and Scorpius had ensured that the cloak had remained on.

Albus was woke by a telephone. He blinked a couple of times before he realized that the phone was his. He had laid it with Zachariah's things and managed to answer it on the seventh ring. "Potter," he said sleepily into the phone.

"Hello, is this James' brother?" a female voice said on the other end.

"I'm not used to being called that, but yes. Who is this?" Albus asked.

"Sarah Walker-Robinson from Scotland Yard," the woman said. "I tried Zachariah's phone, but it must be turned off."

"Yeah," Albus lied. "How did you get this number?"

"James gave it to me," she said. "I needed to contact one of you."

"Right," Albus said, wiping the sleep from his eyes. "I assume you have a reason to call."

"I finally got a hit on the print Zachariah gave me," Sarah said. "Thanks to you. For some reason, he'd been erased from the military database and the government workers database."

"Who was it?" Albus asked, now fully awake.

"Walter Hawthorne," she whispered.

Albus bolted up from his chair. "The Director?" he asked.

"Yup. And there's more. My computer sent a message as soon as the match appeared. I'm willing to bet the Director knows we matched the print."

"Sarah, listen to me. Get to James. Tell him Albus is ordering him to take you into protective custody. Don't tell him anything else until he gets you to our Ministry, do you hear?"

"Is it that serious?" she asked.

"If the Director knows you matched the print, yes it's that serious," Albus said.

"Okay," she said, nervousness creeping into her voice. Albus hung up the phone. He began to pace around the room, wanting to get to the Ministry but not wanting to leave Zachariah.

He gathered his things and prepared to leave.

"Going somewhere?" a man's voice suddenly asked. Albus whipped around and pulled his wand in one smooth motion. An elderly gentleman was sitting in a chair that hadn't been there a moment before. He had no reaction to Albus' movement but simply tapped a long, knobby, brown wand in his hands. He smiled at Albus.

Albus lowered his wand. "I need to get to the Ministry," he said.

"I think Harry Potter is more than capable of protecting Sarah," the man said.

"You are very well informed," Albus said.

"You don't recognize me?" the man asked. Albus shook his head. "Pity, I expected to be recognized by my Master," the man said.

"Death?" Albus asked.

"You do recognize me," the man said smiling.

"You're mistaken, I am no longer your master," Albus said. "I gave you back the wand and the stone."

"Yes," Death said, raising what Albus now recognized as the Elder Wand in what might have been a salute. "But you are still and will always be Master of Death. Sit," he said. Albus sat back in his recliner, opposite Death. "Did you know that you are one of the few people who see me in my true form?"

"No," Albus said.

"Well, you are. Most people see a person who they associate with death: perhaps the first death that meant something, or one which is particularly resonant. For instance your father sees me as Albus Dumbledore. Those who see nightmares believe it to be hell and those that see loved ones believe them to be beckoning them to heaven. But you, you see me as I am. Do you recognize that form?"

"Should I?" Albus asked.

"Possibly. I am your ancestor," Death said.

"Ignotus?" Albus asked.

Death smiled. "I take the form of Ignotus Perevell, exactly how I looked when I took off that cloak and met Death as an equal. When that happened, our essence kind of merged. I took on Death's immortality and he took on my humanity. It has served us both well. Unfortunately, it is a double strike with this wand."

"What do you mean?" Albus asked.

"The wand chooses the wizard, Mr. Potter. It is not always clear why. However, with this wand it _is _always clear why. The Elder Wand chooses the wizard who is, in its view, the strongest. When Death created the Wand, he gave it away willingly. The Wand believes there is no greater weakness. Meanwhile, Ignotus had all the power in the relationship and asked for a defensive weapon. This too is a sign of weakness to the Wand. Therefore, it will never choose me as a master.

"Noble as it was to try to get rid of it; the Elder Wand belongs in the world. I've become aware of that over the past few years. And, having given it away willingly yourself, you cannot be its master any more than I can."

"So, who is its master?" Albus asked.

"Well, normally it would go back to the one before you. But, they're all dead except your father, who also gave it away willingly when he put it in Dumbledore's tomb. Ergo, it has no master. It searches. That is why I have come."

"You're not collecting then?" Albus asked.

"Only if you remove the cloak," Death said, a scythe materializing next to him and then disappearing again. "As Ignotus I can find my cloak whenever I want, but as Death, I cannot collect someone wearing it. Your friend needs to be healed if you stand a chance of stopping Mr. Hawthorne."

"We have to wait," Albus said. "No wand can heal without touching the wound."

"Wrong," Death said. "This one can." He waved the Elder Wand again. "But only in the hands of its proper master."

"That person doesn't exist," Albus said. "You said so yourself: the Wand has no master."

"It is time that changed," Death said getting up. He walked around the bed to face Albus as he spoke. "It is time you gave this Wand away again, this time to someone who _can_ own it." Death offered the Wand to Albus.

"Who?" Albus asked.

"Someone strong," Death said. "The answer will come if you think about it. But perhaps a clue: the Elder Wand was once the property of Salazar Slytherin and has always been happiest in his house."

Albus nodded. "Thanks," he said. Death smiled and vanished.

Albus turned on the muggle television he'd ordered the night before. BBC was still showing the destruction in Washington D.C. and Albus felt a pang of guilt. He'd been ordered there by...

Hawthorne. The fingerprint had matched Hawthorne. Things were coming together. They'd suspected the culprit had wanted to start World War III and Hawthorne had ordered a British wizard to the blast zone seconds after the bomb had gone off. In fact, he'd known it went off way too quickly for any news agency to report it. And Hawthorne had placed a wizard on the case in the first place. A rookie wizard. Well, that was Hawthorne's mistake. Albus may be a rookie, but he was still a Potter.

Albus looked up as Scorpius Malfoy entered the room to start his shift. "How are my patients doing?" Scorpius asked.

"Better," Albus said. He waved the Elder Wand and the door shut behind Scorpius.

"Okay," Scorpius said, putting down the bag of potions he was holding. "What do you want?"

"Scorpius, you know I trust you with my life," Albus said, walking up to face him.

"I'm starting to get freaked out," Scorpius said.

"I've had a visitor," Albus said. "He gave me this."

Scorpius looked at the wand for a minute before comprehension dawned on his face. "Is that what I think it is?" he asked.

Albus nodded. "This wand, in the hands of its rightful master, could heal my friend instantly without removing the cloak," Albus said. "Then, I trust the cloak would return to my family."

"You're the Elder Wand's master," Scorpius said. "Do it."

"I'm not," Albus said. "I gave the wand to Death himself. Apparently, I can no longer own the wand after that. Death, having given the wand away when he created it, cannot own it either."

"Who is its master? Who can perform the spell?" Scorpius asked.

"If the Wand is like other wands, it will look for its new master from the bloodline of the last person it still recognizes as strong enough to own it. Both Dumbledore and Grindelwald are dead and without heir, my father gave it away as well so it won't look there. That leaves - "

"Dad," Scorpius said.

Albus turned the wand so the handle faced Scorpius. "Draco," he finished. "Draco Malfoy was the last person the Elder Wand still recognizes as strong. You, Scorpius, are its rightful heir. The Elder Wand is yours, provided you're strong enough to take it." Scorpius grabbed it gingerly and it hummed in his hands. "I trust you will not misuse it?" Albus asked.

"You have my oath," Scorpius said.

"Now then - " Albus began. But he was interrupted by a breaking news notification from the television.

"Breaking news, Director Walter Hawthorne is holding a press conference as we speak. According to sources, SIS has discovered a suspect in the terrorist bombings of the past week. Let's go there now."

The screen switched to a podium with the large, blue backdrop of the Prime Minister's office just as Director Hawthorne walked to stand behind it. He looked up with a grim look on his face. "Thank you all for coming," he said, camera shutters providing the only competing sound. "I'm afraid I must convey some troubling news. It appears that the man responsible for the nuclear terrorist attacks is an Englishman. We have video evidence which places a man named Albus Severus Potter at Tel Aviv just hours after the blast went off and video which shows him actually setting the bomb that went off in Washington.

"We are still attempting to discover how he managed to detonate these bombs and where he is keeping the others. We have only leads about his future plans, but nothing strong enough to comment on at the moment. I am giving news networks worldwide Albus' picture and he has been placed on the most wanted list of every major crime fighting agency in the world. We will get to the bottom of this crisis. I thank you for your time. Now, any questions?"

Every reporter began asking a question at once, drowning them all out. Albus shut it off.

"Albus," Scorpius said softly.

Albus didn't say anything for a long time. Finally he turned and looked Scorpius in the eye. "I'm gonna kill him," he said. He ran past Scorpius and out of the room. "I'm going to kill him!"


	17. Chapter 16: On The Run

A/N:

Thanks to ladyrayne13 for another review! I hope this chapter is worth the wait!

As always, I appreciate and encourage any and all reviews. Thank you for reading.

* * *

Chapter 16: On The Run

Sarah hung up the phone, threw it down and ran out of her office, around the corner and down the hallway. She was almost to the elevator door in under a minute.

Then her lab exploded.

The blast knocked her flat on her face, barely missing the steel doors in front of her. She could hear glass breaking all around as the individual labs ripped apart. Beakers of strange liquids and equipment began to boil and collide. Many such collisions created smaller explosions from the chemical reactions; each explosion adding to the chaos. Sarah felt something soft land on her back and bounce across in front of her. She didn't want to think about what it was.

Sarah waited for the aftershock explosions she knew were coming: chemical reactions that required some time to be completed.

Then she opened her eyes. Smoke filled what was now a debris-laden, large, rectangular room with almost no light and what light there was flickered as the bulb hung from two feet of loose wire. She looked up but couldn't see the ceiling. Crouching below the smoke she made her way toward the elevator and then stopped. Even if it worked with a fire alarm going off, which it didn't, the steel doors were spotted with pieces of glass imbedded into them. Sarah became aware of sharp pains in her own legs but she didn't look down.

Then the sprinklers activated, dousing the room in water. Some of the sprinklers still worked and sprayed the room evenly. Others had been knocked off the ceiling and water fell from where they had been in a straight line. But they did little good. Chemical fires were much more difficult to put out than a regular fire: the water could even cause more damage. She needed to get out.

Sarah crawled toward the stairs when the staircase door opened. A human shape emerged in the smoke. The figure waved an arm and the smoke was blown away by an invisible wind. Sarah got a good look at the man and recognized him immediately. It was James Potter. James found her and nodded and then looked around. His face dropped as he recognized what Sarah had feared: there were no other survivors. James walked up to her and grabbed her arm. He turned.

* * *

Harry sat in his office trying to convince his daughter-in-law that he really didn't know what was going on. Last he knew, Albus had returned to London and met with James. Actually, Ashley knew more than he did: she'd informed him that Albus had traveled to Missouri the day before. But Harry had inquired and discovered that he hadn't arrived at the American Ministry. That troubled him. They didn't need a covert operation into America, particularly on the day that Washington was bombed by a British terrorist.

"Sir," one of the secretaries said, walking through the open door. "You need to see this."

Harry followed the secretary out of the room closely followed by Ashley. He didn't need instructions on where to go. For the second time this week, everyone was crowding around the muggle news television. Someone in the back turned and looked at Harry with a concerned look, but didn't say anything as he passed by. The crowd parted, letting Harry get a look.

"No," Ashley said softly. "No, no no."

The screen showed a picture of Albus and Zachariah standing in a park in Tel Aviv. But the picture, which changed to a close up photo of Albus which Ginny had taken last year, was the least of Harry's concerns. The bottom graphic took that prize. The words were simple. _Albus Severus Potter identified as terrorist by Scotland Yard. Considered Armed and Dangerous_.

Harry stared at the screen, trying to think of something to do but he couldn't. He turned to tell one of the newer agents to find Albus when he heard the distinctive popping sound of apparation to his left. He whipped around to find James crouching over a woman he didn't recognize. The woman was covered in blood, her clothes were scattered with burn marks and she had at least three pieces of glass sticking out of her legs and two more in her right shoulder. "Help me," he said, looking up at Harry.

"Allow me," a voice said behind Harry when he reached for his wand. He turned around and saw a healer with white blonde hair holding a long, knobby wand he knew all too well. Scorpius Malfoy waved the wand and the glass disappeared from the woman's flesh, the flesh flew back together like a magnet, even the burn marks began to stitch themselves back up. His attention turned back to Harry. He reached into his bag and produced another item that Harry recognized: a flowing, silver cloak. "I fixed it with the Wand," Scorpius said. "Albus made me swear to give it back to his family."

"You know what's happened to Albus?" Ashley asked. James did not react at all to the name, but had conjured a damp rag and was trying to get the woman onto her back.

"No," Scorpius said. He pushed past Harry and Ashley, joining James next to the woman. "He left St. Mungo's right after that Director guy had his little conference."

"Did he say where he was going?" Ashley asked as Scorpius was digging in his bag.

"No," Scorpius said, pulling out a vial of potion and giving it to James. "Give that to her, it will help with the fever. Unfortunately, she'll have to replenish the blood on her own." He got up and faced the two Potters. "Albus only said 'I'll kill him' as he left the hospital. I presume that means the Director."

James slowly backed away from the woman on the floor and stood to face the group. "James," Harry said. "I want you to return to the Yard. See if you can find out why Albus is getting blamed."

"I can't," James said.

"I'll have Scorpius tend to your friend - " Harry began.

"No!" James interrupted. "I can't. Scotland Yard has been blown up. She was injured in the explosion." James nodded to the television. "Another thing that Albus will be blamed for." Sure enough, the television showed the smoking building of Scotland Yard and the graphic was blaming Albus for the explosion. Details were sketchy.

"There's more," Scorpius said. "Albus showed up to the hospital yesterday with a muggle gentleman under that cloak. The muggle had been shot in the heart." Harry threw up his hands and walked away. Scorpius stopped. "I'd better get this woman to the hospital. James, would you like to accompany her? I'll put her next to the muggle Albus was with. We'll be starting our own muggle ward." James nodded.

"Ashley, go with them. You'll find out more there, I promise," Harry said. The four people disappeared, Scorpius leading them all. Harry turned back to the television and shook his head. "Where are you?" he whispered.

* * *

Albus apparated straight into Hangar four at Whiteman Air Force Base. He expected alarms to go off, but there was nothing. Albus opened his eyes. The hangar was dark and empty. Not a soul walked through the large room and the hallway lights were off. Albus noticed one other thing too: Royal Pain was gone.

He'd gotten lucky and he wasn't going to waste any time. He rushed into the hallway and ran around corners to the office door. He attempted to open the door but it was locked. He placed his wand on the door handle and thought _Alohamora_. He heard the lock click. He waited a minute but heard nothing from the office. He opened the door.

The office was a mess. The desk was pushed against the wall opposite the bunker. There were bullet holes in the ceiling where Zachariah's shots had finally hit. There was blood on the floor next to the wall. And that was the problem: it was a wall. The door to the bunker had disappeared.

Albus had returned to the bunker determined to capture the weapons and deactivate them. Only the weapons could prove his innocence and he needed to prove that quickly. He could only run from muggles for so long. He knew the muggles would expect him to return. That was why he was so surprised that the hangar was so quiet. Too quiet.

He activated the bunker door and watched it silently develop on the wall. Unconsciously he began to look around the room. He felt like he was being watched. Something should be happening. Just before the door finished materializing, he waved his wand and the desk flew into the office door and blocked it.

Albus opened the bunker door.

There was no body this time and no closet either. For the first time, Albus wondered how the soldiers had seen down the stairs to shoot at them. The closet should have been the only thing visible. Maybe the spell got disturbed when they had entered. He began to walk down the stairs.

He wasn't really sure what he was going to do once he got to the bunker, but he knew that he needed to get into it. Whatever was going to save him, it had to do with the bunker. He hurried down the stairs, ignoring the circle of bullet holes in the walls and stepping over the bloodstain from where Zachariah had fallen. He got to the bunker.

And froze.

The lower door was still open, Albus hadn't shut it and apparently the muggles hadn't either, and the bunker stretched out before him for meters.

And it was empty.

No sawhorses, no bed, no computer and no metal nuclear weapons. His heart rate increased, he looked around frantically. There was no way the muggles could have emptied the room so fast, that much he knew. They'd have no way to do it: Zachariah said it took twenty men to move just one. And they would have to widen the door and make a ramp just to use that few. But someone had.

Albus ran to the other side, right to where the computer had been, the last hope he'd had vanishing with every step. They weren't just bewitched to be invisible. They were gone. He'd found the weapons and lost them again in little over 24 hours. Whoever had hid these weapons, they were well connected.

No, not whoever: Director Hawthorne. And he was connected because Albus had told him.

A muffled explosion came from outside the bunker. Albus looked up but made no sound. He was not in a good position and wasn't sure he could apparate in his current state. It required concentration and his mind was too stunned from the missing weapons. He didn't trust himself. His only hope was to remain silent and hope whoever was up there didn't come down.

Muffled steps emanated from the stairs and Albus knew that his hope was gone. He pointed his wand at the door and waited for someone to round the corner.

A small metal object flew into the door and exploded. A loud sound ricocheted off the walls defining him and a blinding, white light lit the room.

"Freeze!" several voices shouted as Albus reeled from the flash bang. "Freeze! Hands in the air!"

Albus started to raise his wand but couldn't see anything more than shapes. He'd be way to slow to win a battle. He breathed deeply and dropped his wand, raising his hands above his head.

"You're back," a voice Albus recognized said.

"Jeffery," Albus said. "You're making a mistake - "

"Arrest him. Take him to AFOSI," Jeffery said. Albus felt two men grab his arms and cuff them behind his back.

"I know my rights," Albus began.

"Albus Potter," Jeffery interrupted in a very condescending voice. "You are being accused of terrorism. You have no rights."


	18. Chapter 17: Chasing Albus

A/N: Many thanks to Daerwin45 for favoriting the story and Don-Jam for following it.

Review comments:

ladyrayne13: Speechless was exactly what I was going for with that chapter ;-). This one's a little slower...maybe.

* * *

Chapter 17: Chasing Albus

Special Agent Marc Anthony Cunningham had never been prouder of the Air Force Office of Special Investigations. Two years ago AFOSI had been tipped off by the British pilot in Whiteman Air Force Base of strange noises coming from somewhere in the office. The only Special Agent who had flying experience was Cunningham and; therefore, he had been assigned to the base, given a British passport and told to investigate the noises. They added a new corner office to the hangar. The real pilot moved into that office and Cunningham had moved into the old one. The "haunted" one.

Cunningham had heard the scratching noises too, but had been unable to place them. After two years of no success, no leads, not even a trace of evidence, he'd suggested replacing the pilot. It was a last ditch effort to avoid failure. The idea was simple: create an opening and convince the British to put the opening up for auction. Odds were good that whoever bought the post would probably know something and maybe, just maybe, they'd get to the bottom of this.

He now knew that he'd been wrong: Sargent Murray was completely unrelated to the bunker that had been dug under Hangar four. But this Albus Potter had still come to empty the bunker. The ruse had succeeded in getting to the bottom of the noises. And now AFOSI had captured an international terrorist. He'd never be asked what AFOSI was ever again.

He walked into the Interrogation room and sat down gently across from Albus. The room was plain and rectangular. The two long walls were reflective, black surfaces. All of the C.O.P. shows on television had made the bad guys aware of the tricks behind that glass. Most had tried to put their back to it. So, they built a room with two. One was the window, the other was a mirror. That way the person behind the glass could see reactions from either side.

Cunningham leaned back and set down a manila folder and a stick of wood on the table between him and Albus. Albus' hands were still cuffed behind his chair. He opened the folder and took out a piece of paper, pretending to look at it for a second and then putting it back down.

"Albus Potter," he said, "what is this?" He nudged the white stick.

"It's a stick," Albus said. There was no nervousness in his voice. That was impressive.

Cunningham gave a fake chuckle. "No. You defeated twenty of America's finest holding only this. And you dropped it like a weapon when you raised your hands at the bunker. So I'll ask again. What is this?"

Albus leaned in as far as he could. "I am a Secret Intelligence Service Agent, MI6. One of His Majesty's finest investigators. I demand to speak to my boss. We'll get this all sorted out."

"You don't get it do you?" Cunningham said. "You've been accused of terrorism by that boss you want to call. I don't think anything would get sorted out." He paused for dramatic effect and then started again. "Now, one more time: what - "

"Agent Cunningham we need to see you," a voice said over the intercom. Cunningham barely contained his anger as he folded the folder up and walked from the room.

"What!" he screamed a minute later when he entered the back room. He could see Albus sitting comfortably through the one-way mirror. There was a pair of women who were running the equipment and another woman, agent Virginia Cox, who was studying Albus' reactions for him. But there was a new occupant. A man in an expensive looking suit was standing next to the agent. He smiled at Cunningham. The man was tall, his brown hair only beginning to gray, buff but not muscular. He was the vision of perfection for a man approaching 50.

"I'm Agent Robbins of Homeland Security," the man said, holding out his hand.

"No disrespect, Agent, but I'm in the middle of an interrogation. What was so important that it couldn't wait?" Cunningham said.

"You're interrogating a terrorist. That's Homeland Security's jurisdiction," Robbins said.

Cunningham got into his face. Neither man backed down. "He operated on an Air Force base. It's our case."

"Not anymore," Robbins said. "Our director called in a favor. Homeland will be taking the lead on this one." He nodded to Cunningham and then walked out of the room.

Cunningham pursed his lips together and then walked up to Virginia. "Our director doesn't do or owe favors. Find out everything you can about him," Cunningham said. The agent nodded and left the room as Robbins entered the interrogation room. He sat down across from Albus and picked up the stick, gently turning it over in his hand. "Turn up the volume," Cunningham said to the operators.

"Volume's as high as it goes," one of them said. "They're just not talking."

Suddenly Robbins turned and pointed the stick at the window. The noise of white static filled the room and the operators rushed to turn down the volume. Robbins took out a small black box and threw it down on the ground. Instantly the room turned pitch black.

"Take the room NOW!" Cunningham screamed into a walkie-talkie, pulling a gun from a holster on his side. He left the side room and saw Virginia running back down the hall as he ran toward the room. The agent and Cunningham lined up next to interrogation and gave each other a silent nod before Cunningham kicked in the door.

A black smoke flooded the hallway preventing them from entering. Cunningham pushed away the smoke with his gun until it cleared. Then he and Virginia lowered their weapons.

The room was empty.

* * *

Harry walked into a silent, three-bed ward at St. Mungo's. He had stayed away from St. Mungo's as much as possible, but he'd still seen way too much of these wards. Today, there were two patients and two visitors in the room. Zachariah Johnson was asleep in the bed farthest from the door. Ashley sat next to his bed in a recliner that bore the distinctive marks of Albus. He always had a flourish with his chairs.

James sat between Zachariah's bed and the middle bed. The woman that James had brought to the ministry was sitting up in the middle bed. She smiled at Harry when he entered the room and James looked up.

"Who is she?" Harry asked.

"My name is Sarah Walker-Robinson and I'm perfectly able to answer for myself," the woman said.

"Apologies," Harry said, nodding his head respectfully. He conjured his own recliner across from James at the foot of the beds and took a seat. "He asleep?" Harry asked.

"No clue," James said.

"Why aren't you trying to clear Albus' name?" Ashley asked.

"He's been accused of international terrorism," Harry said.

"That's bullshit and you know it," Ashley said.

"It's not that easy," Harry continued. "We're going to have to find Albus."

"So, find him," Ashley said.

"Yeah, find him," James said sarcastically.

"Ashley, he ran away during the summer before his fifth year at Hogwarts. I threw the entire resources of the Ministry into finding him and I couldn't until he wanted me to. Now he's got six more years of magical knowledge and I've taught him all my tricks," Harry said.

"Not to mention he's now running from multiple Ministries, not just Dad," James added.

"In short, we won't find him. He'll find us," Harry said. "Eventually. What is it you do exactly?" he asked Sarah.

"I'm a lab technician at Scotland Yard," she said.

"So, you don't know Albus or me?" Harry said.

"No," she said simply. "Should I?"

"Our family has a nasty habit of saving the world," James said. "The magical world at least."

"Both Albus and I have saved the world from a person named Voldemort," Harry said. "He makes this bomber look nice. No witch or wizard in England would believe Albus capable of doing what he is accused of."

"No witch or wizard," she said.

"Correct," Harry said. "But you're neither. So, before we continue here, do you believe that Albus could have done this?"

"Harry," Ashley said. "How could you even - "

"I believe he could have, but I don't believe he did," Sarah said, interrupting Ashley.

"Why?" Harry asked.

"Because I matched a print from Fort Charles," Sarah said. "Albus suspected that match was why the lab was..." She trailed off.

"Matched who?" James said quickly.

"I...I...I don't want to say again," she said. "I'm not supposed to be in danger in the lab."

"No one can hear you in this room, I've put magical protection on it," Harry said. "Who'd the print match?"

"I don't want to," Sarah began before trailing off.

"Sarah," James said in the gentlest tone Harry had ever heard him use. He leaned into the bed for added effect.

"Director Hawthorne," Sarah whispered.

"The man who is accusing Al?" Ashley asked.

Harry got up and began pacing the room rubbing his forehead. "Harry, we need to go after him!" Ashley said.

"With what evidence?" James asked.

"You have a fingerprint!" Ashley said.

"Had, had a fingerprint," James said. "It might be hanging out in cyberspace somewhere, but it's not proof he stole the weapons or that he used them."

"Still more than he's got," Ashley said.

"He's got photos and videos of Albus at the blast site and with the weapons," James said.

"Circumstantial," Ashley said.

"So is ours," James said. "It's a game of he said, he said right now between the Director of Scotland Yard and a rookie investigator. The Court of Public Opinion will side with the Director."

"But...but," Ashley began. She trailed off.

Harry finally stopped pacing. "James, how long till she's cleared to leave?" he asked.

"Scorpius cleared her a couple hours ago," James said. "I've kept her under protective custody." Harry looked up suddenly. "Her lab was blown up," James said. "I thought it prudent."

Harry smiled. "Take her to the auror department. Tell Parker to take over the protective custody."

"Didn't Parker die in California?" Ashley asked.

"I lost an auror in California, yes," Harry said. "Minerva Parker is his sister."

"And a rookie auror," James said. "She's inexperienced in protection - "

" - And she's a master duelist," Harry interrupted. "After you tell her to take over the custody, tell her I'm ordering her to get everything Sarah says she needs to create a lab in my office."

"Wait, a lab?" James asked.

"Yes," Harry said. "Every time we use magic on this case it seems to make it worse. This is a muggle case. I believe it's going to need a muggle solution. She's our best hope for a muggle solution. Have her contact Hermione. If anyone can hook up electricity and internet in the middle of the Ministry of Magic it's her."

"Okay, I tell Parker to take over. Then what?" James asked.

"Tell maintenance we'll give their department a day off when this bomb thing is over. That might placate them for the new mess with the lab. Then you investigate your brother," Harry said.

"WHAT?" Ashley screamed, bolting from the chair.

"The muggles will be pulling out all the stops to investigate a wizard. Like you said, their evidence is circumstantial at best. They'll be looking to find evidence to use against Albus, or they already have it. You need to remain one step ahead of them; make sure they don't find out about us. And, above all, find Albus before some muggle agency does. I don't know what would happen if Albus had to fight one of them."

"Or get arrested by one," Sarah said.

"Maybe me or Harry or an average witch or wizard," James said. "But they wouldn't lay a hand on Albus."

"Shouldn't you be sending an auror to find Director Hawthorne?" Ashley asked. "You know, chasing the guy who actually did it?"

"This is Albus we're talking about," Harry said. "I'm sure that he's already trying to find the Director. Which means that I have an auror looking for the Director." He turned back to James. "Find Albus and you'll find the Director."

"Got it, boss," James said, getting up.

"And James," Harry said. "Keep me informed or Ashley will kill me."


	19. Chapter 18: Surprises

A/N: Many thanks to xoRetributionox now for following me and favoriting me. I know you were on the first story when doing this, but hopefully you found and are enjoying this sequal.

Also thanks to ladyrayne13 for the review. I always am eagerly waiting the email notifying me of your reveiw! I'm glad the last line made you laugh, that was what I was going for (only you though ;-) )

As always, I welcome any and all reviews; they keep me from forgetting to post on Thursdays...

* * *

Chapter 18: Surprises

Albus looked around him. He was sitting facing a long rectangular table in an interrogation room very similar to the one he had just left, except that this one had no mirrors. A person that Albus guessed was an aide had come in and placed two chairs opposite him and then Albus had begun to wait: that was two hours ago.

The door to the room opened and the same brown haired man who had sprung him from the AFOSI office entered followed by a thirty something African-American woman. The man sat down opposite Albus and laid Albus' wand on the table as far from Albus as he could. The woman went around behind Albus and unlocked the handcuffs before sitting in the only remaining unoccupied chair.

"You've been a busy man, Albus," the man said.

"Do I know you?" Albus asked.

"George Richardson, Secretary of International Affairs and Irene Bailey, Secretary of Law Enforcement," the man said.

"I remember others in those posts," Albus said.

"Yes. Secretary Zimmerman received a calling and left politics for religion," Richardson said. "I replaced her when she went to Law Enforcement and Bailey replaced her when she left the Ministry of Magic for the ministry of religion."

"Is that even legal? A witch in religion?" Albus asked.

"There have always been magical people in churches," Richardson said. "She viewed it as the next logical step. She's not the first to be in ministry. Though, I'm not sure she knows that."

"I see," Albus said. "So, Secretaries, why did you take me from the muggles?"

"Secretary Bailey likes you," Richardson said.

"I was at Naumkeag, I saw you risk your life dueling that monster to save a school you'd only found out about a month earlier and a country that was trying to kill you. I don't believe you could have attacked that same country five years later," Bailey said.

"And you trust me?" Albus asked Richardson.

"I trust her," Richardson said. "But enough questions from you. We know that England lost some nuclear weapons and that one of them was used in Tel Aviv and possibly another in Washington. What I don't know is where your investigation is at the moment. We're just starting ours. We could use your help to move us along."

"You could use my help?" Albus asked with a chuckle.

"You don't want to help me?" Richardson asked.

"I think it's amazing how trusting you are," Albus said. "And yeah, I'm a little hesitant to share information with America."

"A good deed goes a long way, Albus," Bailey said.

"So does a bad one," Richardson said. "I really don't think you want to be the cause of an international incident. Read us in."

Albus leaned forward and Richardson instinctively pulled the wand off the table. "So, not that trusting," Albus said. "I'll read you in," Richardson smiled, "on the way to Washington. We'll need to compare the uranium to Tel Aviv to make sure it was our bomb. I wouldn't want a war to start if it's not our bomb."

The smile was gone. "Your Minister Weasley has been sitting with President Cannon for the last two days trying to ease relations. Do not undo that work," Richardson said.

"Apologies," Albus said, leaning back again.

"We'll investigate Whiteman for you," Richardson said. "You will sit here and wait."

"Richardson, he's right," Bailey said. "We'll need to confirm this weapon was one of the ones that was stolen."

"Fine. Go get the sample, Bailey. Where do we send it?" Richardson said.

"Tel Aviv's is at Scotland Yard," Albus said.

"Well, then we have a problem," Richardson said. "Scotland Yard was attacked this morning."

"What?" Albus asked, letting the shock flood his body. He knew some interrogation techniques.

"Yeah," Richardson said. "Rumor has it you're accused."

"By whom?" Albus asked.

"Director of Scotland Yard for one," Richardson said.

Albus shook his head. "I've got a print that puts the Director stealing the weapons," he said. "That print matched this morning, the only evidence was housed at Scotland Yard. Coincidence?"

"Yes," Richardson said quickly.

"There's a backup of the nuclear material at the British Ministry," Albus said. "We duplicate all of our evidence before doing anything. It's hidden in a secret vault in the Department of Mysteries."

"There, you see, not that hard to share," Richardson said. He turned Albus wand so that the handle faced him.

"You're giving that back?" Albus asked.

"Well, if you're going to accompany Secretary Bailey to Washington, I wouldn't want you to be defenseless."

"You assumed I was," Albus said. He winked at Richardson when he looked around.

"Bailey, watch him closely," Richardson said.

"You do realize I'm a wanted terrorist right?" Albus asked. "I'm going to need a disguise."

"You have one in mind?" Richardson asked.

"Polyjuice is a pretty good one," Albus said.

"No," Richardson said.

"You got a better idea?" Albus asked.

"You're talking about masquerading into at least seventeen news cameras as someone who exists out there!" Richardson said.

"Yeah," Albus said.

"What did your wife do when you walked through Tel Aviv?" Richardson asked.

It was Albus' turn to look surprised. "You've been watching me?" Albus asked.

Richardson winked back. "Any wife would be worried if she saw her husband in a radioactive zone. Including the person you'd be impersonating."

"What if we used someone dead?" Bailey asked.

"Excuse me?" Richardson said.

"If we use someone long dead, won't that fix your problem?" Bailey asked.

"And where are you going to get a hair from a body long dead?" Richardson asked.

"A mummy?" she suggested.

"I've got a dead body that no one is missing," Albus said. "It's in England though."

"No," Richardson said.

"Found the body in Whiteman," Albus said. Richardson shook his head again. "You can have it," Albus said. Richardson broke.

"Fine, take Bailey to England, get your hair, drink your potion and then do your thing in Washington and get back here," Richardson said. "And Bailey, make sure he doesn't talk to anyone in England. I want the original body."

Albus arrived at the Ministry with Secretary Bailey and dropped the old 2-liter Mountain Dew bottle they were holding. It was Secretary Bailey's favorite drink and the only thing in her office that she was willing to part with.

"I still don't understand why we couldn't just apparate," Bailey said.

"The only places that you can apparate into are the lobby and the auror office," Albus said. "Both places are full of people this time of day and your boss didn't want me talking to anyone. So, the only other way into the Ministry is portkey. This room is open to portkeys: we use the method to transport evidence."

The room was dimly lit and large. Albus walked through the piles of things that had been collected over centuries of auror investigations and picked up a pocket watch that had been taken from someone in 1893. Albus doubted the case would be going back to the Wizengamot.

"What's that?" Bailey asked.

"Our ticket back to America," Albus said, handing it to her. "You can get us closer to Washington than I can."

"Can't we just apparate there?" Bailey asked.

"We can't apparate out any easier than we can apparate in," Albus said entering the 1950's.

"Great," Bailey said.

"Problem?" Albus asked without stopping.

"I'm not very good at making portkeys," she said.

Albus stopped somewhere in the 1990's. "You can't make a portkey? You're the equivalent of the auror director and you can't make a portkey?"

"Yes," she said, staring him in the eye. There wasn't a trace of shame.

"All right. I'll take us to Salem, you apparate from there," Albus said.

"Deal," Bailey said handing him the wristwatch. "Go get your body."

Albus turned and raced to the two bodies lying side by side at the end of the ever-growing room. He picked the body that wasn't labeled (the one he'd gotten from Whiteman and hadn't told anyone about yet) and plucked several hairs from his head.

"What is this place?" Bailey asked when he'd returned.

"Where we keep all of our evidence," Albus asked. "Don't you have one?"

"We never have this much evidence," Bailey said.

"Don't you need it for your court?" Albus asked.

"Only half of our cases go to court," Bailey said. "And we don't need much evidence for those."

"I thought America was the place where the courts needed the most evidence," Albus said.

She looked him in the eye again. "You know why Americans were so paranoid that there were communists within the country in the fifties?"

"Because there were?"

"Yeah. We've gotten a lot of our rights back, Mr. Potter, enough to call ourselves Socialist by now, but trial by jury isn't one of them. Can we go now?"

Albus pointed his wand at the watch and made it a portkey. They both grabbed the chain and thirty seconds later they were gone.

Albus appeared in an empty corner bookstore in what he hoped was a D.C. suburb a couple of minutes later. Bailey gave him a vial of polyjuice that she'd picked up from the Ministry and he dropped the hairs in and took a drink. A few minutes of nasty burning later, Albus stepped out from behind a bookshelf and asked how he looked. He threw in a South Asian accent for fun.

"Why the accent?" Bailey asked. Albus asked a question with his eyes and she pointed to a bathroom with a mirror. Albus went and looked. He was staring into the face of an older, white man, in his late fifties, early sixties. He had closely cut, blonde hair with a touch of gray and he was much taller than Albus was. Albus would need new clothes.

"Not what I was expecting," Albus said, coming out of the bathroom.

"I gathered that," Bailey said. "That's strange, but we'll figure that out later. For now, we need to get you some clothes. There's a shop down the road about two blocks."

It took twenty minutes to find the man's size but Albus finally blended in well with the crowd. He motioned for Bailey to take the lead and stepped in behind her, quickly applying the same protective spells that Deborah had used in Tel Aviv.

There was no mushroom cloud left over the damage, but it was just as sobering as Albus remembered. A large gray crater still smoked throughout the downtown D.C. area. Around the edge, Albus could see the remains of buildings, but he didn't recognize very many. This bomb had been meant for destruction, there was no need to recognize the remains. Still, a blackened obelisk rose to Albus' left, the National Mall was recognizable though empty and all the buildings around it were damaged beyond recognition except the obelisk that used to be the Washington Monument. Nothing else was recognizable from where they stood all the way to the Potomac River. The Capital and the White House were gone.

"The bomb in Tel Aviv was meant to leave the city recognizable. This one was meant for destruction," Albus said.

"Well, if they wanted to disrupt the government, they failed," Bailey said. "There was still a lot here, but with it being August, Congress and the President were on vacation along with most of their aides. Even the major players in the FBI, CIA and the Pentagon would have been gone this time of year. Everyone tries to escape the August heat."

"Even after the bomb in Tel Aviv?" Albus asked.

"That was on foreign soil," Bailey said. "The President issued a statement, but other than that nothing needed to be done until the Israelis finished their investigation." They walked into the crater for almost a mile before Albus stopped and got his sample of dirt. Then they began to leave again. They didn't speak until they reached a Cracker Barrel restaurant about 300 yards from the edge of the blast. It was closed, but there were rocking chairs they could sit on. Albus took another drink of the potion. "You look terrible," Bailey said.

"Too much senseless death," Albus said.

"You've seen too many nuclear blasts in one week?" Bailey asked.

"One was too many for a lifetime," Albus said. "I need to get this to my boss. See if he can match it." He pulled out his phone and dialed.

"Potter," Harry said on the other end.

"Hey, it's Albus. I've got a sample from Washington, any chance you can match it to the stolen weapons?" Albus asked.

"I can't," Harry said. "Send it to your desk and I'll have Parker take it to our lab. Maybe Sarah can do something with it."

"Our lab?" Albus asked.

"Well, Scotland Yard was destroyed, we had to have one somewhere," Harry said. "I'll alert her for you."

"Thanks," Albus said. He touched his wand to the vial of dirt, turning it into a portkey, and it traveled to his desk in London. He leaned back in his rocking chair and closed his eyes.

"We need to get back to Philadelphia," Bailey said.

"Yeah, I know," Albus said. But as he got up, his phone rang.

"Potter," he said answering it.

"Albus, you able to get to a TV?" James asked on the other end.

"Yeah," Albus said, quickly running into the Cracker Barrel. He found the TV and magically gave it some power. It flickered to life as Bailey joined him. The news was showing Director Hawthorne in front of an uncolored concrete wall. He couldn't read the bottom line. "This isn't good news is it?" he asked.

"No," James said. "Not good news at all."


	20. Chapter 19: The Revelation

A/N: Wow. Only 9 more chapters left. Kind of sad.

Review Comments:

ladyrayne13: Thanks for the review! I really try to leave cliff hangers on chapters and the last chapter was a good one. Just be happy you're reading this story and not Setting the Stage, my crossover with the Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel. I have a nasty habit of not paying off the cliffhangers in that story for a couple chapters...

* * *

Chapter 19: The Revelation

Harry sat in Albus' recliner and flipped through the channels on the television without really paying attention. Ashley had insisted the television be left in the room so she could keep her mind off her missing husband, but she had left to get food an hour earlier. He finally settled on the news channel that Albus had left it on when she reentered the room.

"Any changes?" Ashley asked, sitting down and handing him a soda.

"Nope, still comatose," Harry said taking a sip of the soda. "Ugh, this is terrible."

"It's a hospital," Ashley said. "It's the best they had. Isn't he supposed to be awake now?"

"Scorpius said it was impossible to know," Harry said. "No one has survived a bullet to the heart before. It's uncharted territory."

A breaking news beacon interrupted their conversation. They both looked around to the television and Ashley took a seat between the middle bed and Zachariah's. Harry wasn't very surprised when Director Hawthorne was shown on screen. He was standing in front of a concrete wall that BBC was calling a makeshift headquarters after the attack on Scotland Yard.

"Thank you for coming here, I know it was difficult," the Director said. "I'm afraid I have more troubling news. We have received a threat from the terrorist Albus Potter. The threat, a letter of sorts, indicated that he plans a massive attack on the entire world. He reminds us that there are eleven bombs left and he intends to release them on major cities throughout the world.

"Unfortunately, that is not the only troubling news. We have discovered how the weapons have been delivered. At first, we didn't believe it was possible, just as I'm sure many of you won't believe it either. But you must trust that we have compiled enough evidence to make this claim. Mr. Potter is delivering the weapons through some kind of magical delivery system.

"We have collected evidence of an entire race of people with magical abilities which has infiltrated every nation on the planet. I will release this evidence later today. This race has traded their souls for their magical abilities. They are no longer human. There may be fear, but I assure you they are not superheroes. Together we outnumber them. Centuries ago we killed many of them at the stake and we have only grown greater in number. They cannot withstand our modern weapons.

"At this point we suspect them all to be aiding Potter in delivering the weapons in this attack on humanity itself. With their help, we believe Potter capable of carrying out his threat. Further, we have no technology that can stop a magical delivery. But at the moment, we believe only Potter knows where the weapons are. Only Potter can start the attack.

"We are asking for everyone to keep their eyes open for any unusual activity. Every police agency in the world is to be on the lookout for this devil. We must find him before he strikes again. If you spot a wizard, kill on site. Thank you for your time." The Director walked away without taking questions.

The two of them had stood and moved steadily closer to the television until they both stood at the foot of the bed. Ashley covered her mouth, her eyes wider than Harry thought possible. He spread his arms and Ashley accepted the hug.

"A threat?" Ashley asked as she stepped back. Harry wiped the tears from her face. "What could he possibly mean?"

"He's the one attacking, all he has to do predict what he's going to do and do it. He'll frame Albus for it. Actually, he'll frame us all," Harry said.

"What do we do?" Ashley asked.

"I'm not sure what we can do," Harry admitted. "The plan's ingenious. I don't know how to stop it now. The situation just keeps getting worse."

"Do you think Albus is safe?" Ashley asked.

"For now," Harry said. "He can protect himself. But the Director is right. If the muggles turn on us we don't stand a chance."

"We can do magic!" Ashley said.

"Yeah," Harry said. "They can shoot guns. Lots of guns."

"We can guard against bullets," Ashley said.

"If we have our wands we can guard one direction," Harry said. "And only some of us can do that. The spell is beyond the ability of most wizards. But if they surround us, there is nothing we can do. No one, not even Albus, could keep up a cocoon of protection for very long. And if they arrest us, they'll confiscate our wands and leave us defenseless. A potion protected us from burning at the steak, but nothing will protect us from a firing squad."

"I don't understand," Ashley said. "Do you really think the muggles will attack us?"

"Director Hawthorne's plan seems to include it. I think it will be difficult to stop," Harry said.

"You think this is part of his plan?" Ashley asked.

"He included a wizard in the search," Harry said.

"You don't think picking Albus was coincidental?" Ashley asked.

"This is so well planned, I don't think anything was coincidental," Harry said.

"What about him?" Ashley asked, motioning to Zachariah. "He's been on the case forever. You think the selection of him was coincidental?"

"His partner owned the Riddle House. He was highly connected to the magical world himself. I doubt it," Harry said, moving around the bed.

"I wonder who he is," Ashley said.

"He told me his name was Zachariah Johnson," Harry said.

"Name show up on your watch list?" Ashley asked.

"No," Harry said. "He also said that his name was Oliver Clay before that. I don't know what his real name is."

"If you had to pick one of those?" Ashley said.

"I believe Zachariah Johnson was closer," Harry said, he began to fiddle with Zachariah's belongings. "Maybe even his real name."

"According to Albus, when you met Adam Travers you figured out who he was by determining what his name meant," Ashley said.

"Indeed I did. There is power in names. They define many of us," Harry said. He found Zachariah's badge and opened it. "His badge says Zachariah Johnson, so I guess that's his name."

"Okay, so what does it mean?" Ashley asked.

Harry sighed. "I don't know every name, but I know many," Harry said. "Zachariah is Hebrew for 'the Lord remembers.' Johnson is English in origin. It means son of John."

"So, 'the Lord remembers; son of John?" Ashley asked.

"Yeah," Harry said. "It doesn't tell us nearly as much as 'Earth's gatekeeper' did." He set the badge down and continued to search through Zachariah's pockets. He found Zachariah's wallet and opened it.

"What about his partner?" Ashley asked. "If nothing is coincidental, his partner was hand-picked."

"Peter Acker," Harry said. "Means 'rock field.' You figure that one out."

"No clue," Ashley said.

"Hey, what would you make of this?" Harry asked. He walked around to her and showed her the wallet. "He's got a picture of Charlotte."

"What?" she asked taking the wallet. Harry had opened it to the photo album and had flipped to a picture of a baby. The baby had a rounded face with beautiful, sky blue eyes. The baby's light hair was already showing signs of magic: it was blowing in what Harry assumed was a picture studio and Harry could see three square knots within it. "It's not Charlotte," Ashley said.

"Are you sure?" Harry asked. "It looks a lot like her. Look, there's even signs of magic."

"I know, but look," she said. Ashley went to her purse and produced a picture of Charlotte. Side by side, Harry could see subtle differences. "The hair is just slightly darker with Charlotte. She's developing Albus' red hair while this baby seems to have blonde. But the biggest difference is the eyes. Charlotte has Albus' eyes, your eyes, Lily's eyes. The baby in this picture doesn't."

Harry looked up at Zachariah. "But if it's not Charlotte, who is this a picture of?"

* * *

Sarah Walker-Robinson was starting to feel at home as more and more equipment became unpacked in the large office. She looked around as her chaperone Minerva Parker entered the room. Minerva was shorter than Sarah, of slight build, her blonde hair falling over her shoulders and one of her hazel eyes was hidden behind bangs. But Sarah had learned long ago not to judge a person on appearances. She guessed that Minerva Parker was not someone to mess with.

"Anything else?" Minerva asked.

"A hand?" Sarah asked. Getting everything plugged in and working was going to take a while.

"So, I heard your brother worked here," Sarah said as they finished plugging the computer in. Hermione Weasley had managed to get the room hooked up with about fifty plugins and three internet ports in about thirty minutes. It was the best magic Sarah had seen all day and that was saying something.

"Yeah," Minerva said shortly. "Yeah, he did."

"My brother was a lawyer," Sarah said. "He was my inspiration for joining the crime lab at the Yard. Otherwise I'd be off making twice as much working for some private company."

"Yeah, well my brother's not exactly saying how proud he is of me," Minerva said. "He died in vain chasing criminals across America."

"Neither is mine," Sarah said. "He was killed almost six years ago."

"What happened?" Minerva asked, her tone changing for the first time since Sarah had brought the subject up.

"He got a job in one of the best defense agencies in Belfast, Northern Ireland. He worked there for six years, helping some of the most notorious criminals walk free. At the time, I was working on my Masters in biology at Cambridge. I believed I would be making hundreds of thousands of dollars a year trying to find a cure for cancer or something when I left."

"How'd you wind up at the Yard?" Minerva asked.

"My brother called me. He said he'd grown tired of watching the bad guys go free and especially tired of being responsible for it. He'd taken a job with the Crown Prosecution Service. It was a severe pay cut. He asked me to consider helping him by applying to the crime lab at Scotland Yard. He reminded me that I was a very good scientist. He believed that I could help him put the bad guys away for a change. I never got that chance."

Minerva asked the question with a look. She was interested now. "He picked the wrong day to leave Belfast. He went into his local bank in order to set up a transfer of his money. While he was there, a man came in and attempted to rob the place. The police arrived and it turned into a hostage situation. Two hours later, the police attempted to take the bank by force and the man killed everyone inside, including himself."

"That's horrible," Minerva said.

"It's not the worst of it," Sarah said. "The man who killed him had been brought up on drug selling charges the previous year. My brother's agency had gotten him off on a technicality. Police believed that he was robbing the bank to pay the lawyer bill. He killed my brother so he could pay for his services."

"I'm so sorry," Minerva said after a long silence.

"If anyone here was going to say their brother died in vain, it would be me. But I don't. His death, not his argument, pushed me into the crime lab. His death has put hundreds of criminals away over the past few years because I was there," Sarah said. "I heard your brother died on the job, fighting for his country. I assure you, he didn't die in vain. They won that war and no doubt he's why you're here. Everything you do here provides more and more validation to his death. Don't forget that."

Minerva's unshed tears filled her eyes in the forthcoming silence. Sarah offered a hug and Minerva took it. "I miss him. I miss him so much."

"I can tell," Sarah said.

Minerva gathered herself. "Thank you for being so forward," she said. "How can I help you?"

"Well, the fingerprint is gone: all evidence is, well was, held in the lab at the Yard. But James had brought down some DNA from a body Albus had discovered. You could get me some more of that DNA so I can restart the database scan."

Minerva smiled. "Follow me," she said.


	21. Chapter 20: Muggle Attack

Review Comments:

ladyrayne13: I'm so glad you reviewed! As to your guess; he is not Minerva's brother. Minerva's brother died in the battle during the second part of the previous story. He's not coming back (although dead people coming back was the premise of the last book). Also, Zachariah is about 25 years older than Minerva. But you are definately on the right line of thinking! Keep scowering the relationships in the book...that's all I'll say. You don't get an answer in this chapter, but you will next time, I promise.

A/N: You may need to remember the story in Revelation: 13 about a Beast rising from the ocean to defeat the world. One of the characters will reference this story.

* * *

Chapter 20: Muggle Attack

James Potter hung up the phone with his brother and looked for a way to turn the television off. He'd arrived about an hour earlier at his brother's house trying to figure out the order he'd been given. Harry had told him to do two things: find Albus and keep the muggles from finding out about wizards. James had begun at Albus' desk at the Ministry, but hadn't found very much. For one thing, Albus hadn't been at his desk for months because he'd been stationed at Scotland Yard. For another thing, this was Albus Potter: if he didn't want to be found, he wouldn't be.

James then began to figure out how to get into the crime scene that was Scotland Yard. He'd planned to investigate Albus' desk there for places Albus might hide. That's when his father's order finally made sense. Albus would be found when Albus was ready to be found. James' job was to ensure that the muggles were out of the way. He was to lead the muggle police on a wild goose chase. If he could figure anything out along the way, great. If not, no problem. And James was the perfect man for the job: he looked a lot like Albus. The muggles would probably confuse the two people, at least for a while.

So James had headed for Albus' house to set the first clue for the muggles. The first place he had gone was the bedroom, taking the few magical items from the closet. He got a chuckle from Albus' dress robes and an even greater chuckle when he discovered they matched one of Ashley's exactly. Women would never corrupt James like that. He searched the room for a wand but couldn't find any. When he was satisfied there was nothing else he found a box and put the items inside. Then he moved down the hall.

There was a Weasley bathroom cleaner that automatically cleaned everything back to sparkling new. He put that in the box. Charlotte's bedroom had spells on the walls and ceiling as well as a few spell books in the mattress. James boxed the spell books and erased the writing on the wall. Then he moved down the hall and found the basement stairs.

When James saw the basement, he knew his job just became a lot larger. He also got a new revelation about what his father had told him. Harry had said to make sure the muggles didn't find out about "us." James had assumed that meant wizard kind. But looking at two filing cabinets with a few files open on a long desk in the middle of the basement, James got a new idea. Maybe Harry had been telling him to make sure they didn't find out about the auror department. So many cases had been solved faster because the aurors had discovered it when it affected muggles. Many wizards tested what they wanted to do on muggles before attacking magical targets. The past ten years, aurors were waiting for them when they finally attacked witches and wizards. Maybe Harry wasn't even worried about muggles finding out about anything. Maybe he was worried about wizards finding about this mission to Scotland Yard.

James set down the box of magical stuff and picked up the file Albus had on the desk. It involved a purple vehicle that was running red lights all over England. The file had pictures of the car running about seven lights over a two-week period. Yet the car never hit anything. It was almost like the other cars bent out of its way. James wondered if the cameras had picked up the spells disguising the Knight Bus. He turned and found the file for K. It was a drawer for H-K on the bottom of the left file. Pulling out the drawer, he realized that Albus had bewitched it because it extended a yard into the room. James found where the K started and filed away the file on the Knight Bus.

As he was pushing the drawer in, a name caught his eye. It was an older file, but Albus had put it away carefully in the front of the drawer.

Hawthorne.

James pulled it out and shut the door. He boxed a few other things; a quill a few pieces of parchment, a Weird Sisters album; and put them in the box. Then he sent the box and the files to Albus' desk in the ministry via portkey and walked up to the living room to sit on the couch. He looked quickly around the room for signs of magic but couldn't find any. He flipped open the file and began reading when the television turned itself on. Apparently, it had been bewitched to turn on when any news about Scotland Yard appeared on BBC.

Ten minutes later, he hung up with his brother and searched for a way to turn the television off. Just as he found the remote, it turned itself off. James shook his head and put the remote back down.

There was a rustle of leaves outside that set James' hair on end. He quickly put the file in the bag/wallet that Hermione had given him when he graduated from Auror School and began to pull his wand from his back pocket.

The door burst open and James quickly turned around to see seven of London's Finest rush into the room and point their guns at him. James put his arms out to his side, his wand still hidden in his back pocket. He was cognizant of at least four more coming in the sliding door in the kitchen. He guessed there was another somewhere to make a dozen. The police began to spread out, surrounding him with the wall behind him.

Then the twelfth man walked in the front door. James immediately recognized him as the leader, primarily because he didn't have his weapon drawn, but he also recognized him as a classmate. The man's name was Nicolai Ivonav. His family had emigrated from Russia to England specifically for him to attend Hogwarts. But he had betrayed them by taking a high paying manager job with a muggle company. His family had disowned him and returned to Russia. James didn't know he had become an officer.

"Albus Potter, I expected better," Nicolai said. James looked into his eyes and saw truth. The man believed he was Albus. Maybe his memory wasn't so good. "I was looking forward to a chase."

"Sorry to disappoint you, sir," James said.

"Hands on your head," Nicolai said.

"I can't reach," James said. "Old sporting injury. You understand." He winked at Nicolai.

"Shut up demon," one of the officers said.

"Demon?" James said. "What did I do to deserve that title?"

The man clicked the gun. "You're right," he said. "Your followers are the demons. You are the Beast!"

"Easy," Nicolai said. "Our orders are to take him alive. Only he can lead us to the weapons."

"That's easy," James said. He couldn't help himself. "They're in my lair before I emerged from the sea. In my temple on Atlantis."

"Get your hands on your head and shut up!" another officer said.

"I told you, I can't get my hands that high because of a sporting injury," James said.

"Then put your hands behind your back," Nicolai said. "Christopher, cuff him."

James slowly put his hands behind his back and gripped his wand as Christopher came at him from his right. He managed to swish and flick the wand within his pocket and the coffee table raised a millimeter off the ground. Just as Christopher got next to him, James pulled his wand and the table flew to James' left, knocking four officers to the ground. James grabbed Christopher and shifted his weight, virtually trading places with him. Five bullets slammed into Christopher's chest. James pointed his wand at Nicolai and sent a stunning spell at him. It hit him in the chest before he could react and sent him flying into the doorframe. He slid to the floor.

James conjured a giant silver shield to his right and heard three bullets hit it. A gust of wind from his wand pushed the shield into two more officers on the far right of the room and pushed James back toward the four officers that were climbing up from under the table. Bullets flew where he had just been standing. He whipped around and shouted "Reducto!" at the table. The floor under the table and the officers disintegrated and they fell through it into the basement below. He stood over the hole and shouted "Stupefy Omne!" A red jet flew from the wand and split into four. He had just enough time to notice they were still alive before they were all stunned.

Including Christopher, who wasn't moving in the middle of the room, six were down. The two under the shield threw the shield off and into another officer. They had stopped firing and were spreading out again.

The movement in James' hand was almost imperceptible, but the giant painting that was hanging on the outside wall to James' left was ripped off its riggings and fell on two of the officers that were surrounding him. He slid onto the floor as they reacted to the attacking painting and conjured the largest force field spell he could: just enough to cover his head and upper chest. He felt a couple of bullets bounce off, but most just flew over him.

His wand came free of the force field and he pointed it to his right shouting "Stupefy Omne!" The spell came out and split in three, hitting all three shocked officers in the chest. They slumped to the floor. James magically picked up the giant silver shield and put it behind him. Six bullets clanked off the shield as the one officer who remained standing unloaded his round. James took the opportunity to turn around. The officer was reloading. Two more were just getting out from under the painting that was doing its best to hit them on the head. They had already ripped the frame off and one was getting ready to unload his gun into the canvas. The pieces of the frame continued to beat them over the head.

James pointed his wand at the free officer. The officer dropped his weapon and produced a large silver cross from his pocket. He held it out in front of him like James was a vampire. James shook his head and shouted "Petrificus Totalus!" The officer dropped the cross as his legs snapped together, his arms locked to his side and he began to tilt dangerously. James magically leaned him up against the wall facing Nicolai. He turned to the two officers who were being attacked by the painting. They had both dropped their weapons and had their hands raised covering their faces against the relentless Picasso. James pointed his wand at each in turn and stunned them. The painting dropped to the floor.

He turned and ran to Christopher. Three bullets had hit his stomach, two more in his left arm and a lot of blood had soaked onto the floor under him. A pang of guilt exploded in James' gut. He'd been expecting them to be wearing bulletproof vests. He summoned the bullets out of Christopher's wounds and gently healed each hole. Once he'd worked each one shut, he gently placed Christopher down on the ground and felt for a pulse. He felt one; very weak but present. He turned back to the officer leaning next to Nicolai. It was the one who'd called him a demon.

"He'll be okay," James said. "Though he needs to be taken to a hospital. But I'd like to point something out. I healed him. I set my phasers to stun. You were the ones trying to kill here. Which one was the demon I wonder?" He picked up the cross and placed it in the man's chest pocket.

"I'll leave you with one final warning," James continued. He pocketed his own wand and showed the man that he had nothing up his sleeve and then kicked Nicolai over. He pulled Nicolai's wand out of his back pocket and picked it up. He brought it to the man's face. "Do you even know who you're working for?" he asked. He placed the wand in Nicolai's hand and pulled his own wand back out. He placed it on Nicolai's back and said "Rennervate." Then he stepped back and apparated away before Nicolai could wake up.


	22. Chapter 21: Brotherly Love

Review Comments:

ladyrayne13: Glad to leave you speechless...I'm quite sure I'll do it again.

Chapter 21: Brotherly Love

Albus arrived back in Philadelphia with Secretary Bailey. He was not in the interrogation room anymore, she'd taken him to an extremely busy square room. Albus saw the giant map of North America on a wall to his left with hundreds of multicolored dots on it. There was a map behind him of the world. It covered that entire wall as well. There were people sitting at paper filled desks all around the room, but they were not as crazy looking as his father had reported. Of course, they'd been trying to find Adam Travers when Harry had been here. Albus was willing to bet that the British office had a lot of crazy looking people right now.

Bailey walked up to a man who was looking at the world map around South America. It was about twenty feet to Albus' right.

"Were you successful?" the man asked as Bailey approached.

"Yes. Were you?" she asked.

"No," he said. He turned to Albus who had now joined them. Albus had shrunk back to his true body. "Your director has accused wizards everywhere of aiding you in these attacks. Between that and the AFOSI agent recognizing me I was lucky to get to a place where I could apparate away. I'm not sure we'll be able to get there anytime soon."

"We need to find those bombs again," Albus said. "If I could communicate with my colleagues, I might be able to do that."

"I'm afraid we don't have a choice," George Richardson said. "See what you can find out."

Albus smiled and walked to the corner next to Australia. He pulled out his phone, turned it on and dialed his brother.

"Potter," James said on the first ring.

"James, it's Albus," he said.

"Knew you'd call us eventually," James said. There was no surprise in his voice.

"Tell me you know something I don't," Albus said.

"I was just about to say the same thing," James said. "Where have you been the past day?"

"I've been the prize in a game of inter-departmental tennis," Albus said. "You?"

"Target at a police shooting range," James said.

"What happened?" Albus asked.

"Dad sent me to your house in an attempt to find you before the muggles did," James said.

"You failed," Albus replied.

"What?" James asked.

"I was arrested by American muggles yesterday and rescued by the American Ministry. What happened at my house?" Albus asked again.

"I was visited by some of London's finest," James said. "Including Nicolai Ivonav."

"The Slytherin guy for three years ahead of me?" Albus asked.

"That's the guy. I made a point of identifying him as a wizard before I left," James said.

"Why?" Albus asked.

"They were saying some nasty things about wizards," James said.

"Yeah, someone here was saying that all wizards are being blamed," Albus said. "You think they believe the Director?"

"Well, these guys believe you are the anti-christ and we are your minions," James said. "I'd say they believed him. Well, maybe not the terrified guy I left to witness Nicolai taking stunning spells off the others. I'm afraid I made a mess of your house, bro."

"Do I want to know?" Albus asked.

"Well you should be able to repair the living room floor, but I'm not sure about the Picasso," James said.

"You destroyed my Picasso?" Albus asked outraged.

"Well, it saved my life by attacking two officers," James offered. "I'll get you another."

"That original painting cost us thousands of pounds," Albus said. "Do you even have thousands of pounds?"

"If I get to Gringotts," James said. "I've been working three more years than you. Did you think I spent it all?"

"I thought you'd spent next year's salary already," Albus said.

"Ouch," James said. "Didn't you at least want to discover what I found before you insult me?"

"What could you possibly have found in my house that I don't know about?" Albus asked.

"Something you forgot about," James said. "I found Walter Hawthorne's military file from Scotland Yard."

"He didn't have that destroyed?" Albus asked, suddenly more interested.

"Oh, he did," James said. "But he didn't know we kept all of our copies. I'm impressed you didn't clean my files out. We may finally have something that he doesn't expect."

"Last time we had something he didn't expect, he blew up Scotland Yard," Albus said. "You sure you're safe?"

"Well, I'm sitting at your desk in the Ministry. I hope so," James said.

"Why my desk?" Albus asked.

"Because that's where I transported the filing cabinets. I didn't want those crowding _my_ desk," James said.

"Whatever," Albus said. "Is there anything in that file about Whiteman?"

"I thought you'd never ask," James said. "Walter Hawthorne was assigned to Whiteman Air Force Base when he joined the British military in 1982."

"And Fort Charles?" Albus asked.

"He ended his career stationed there 15 years later. He became an investigator at Scotland Yard as soon as he was discharged," James said.

"Where was he stationed in between?" Albus asked.

"Several bases," James said. "There was a three year stint in Northern Ireland, a six year command in India, a brief stay in Jersey. That's blacked out."

"Doesn't seem right," Albus said. "It's too dangerous to dig under that island. India isn't close enough to me for him to use that. Perhaps the Northern Ireland base?"

"Oh, this is interesting," James said, ignoring Albus.

"What?" Albus asked. He knew James wouldn't say anything until Albus asked.

"I thought he gave up magic as soon as he graduated Hogwarts, but he didn't," James said. "He joined the Ministry and was appointed secretary working with our ambassador to the Roman Ministry."

"A Ministry of Magic?" Albus asked.

"Yes, the Roman Ministry of Magic. Sorry I wasn't clearer," James said sarcastically.

"James, that's it," Albus said. "Where better to hide magic?"

"Okay, so we storm the Roman Ministry? Are we doing that as British spies or soldiers?" James asked.

"We're not storming the Ministry. We go in covert," Albus said.

"You're an international terrorist and I'm getting confused as you. And I trust you remember that polyjuice doesn't work as well against wizards," James said.

"You're right, we need a plan B," Albus said.

"We need backup," James said.

"How would we contact them?" Albus asked.

"Then we have a problem," James said. "Do we just go with the storm the ministry plan?"

"I'm not going in without a plan B," Albus said. "You got another solution?"

"No I..." James began. "Solution?"

"Yeah," Albus said slowly. "What you thinking?"

"Get to Rome. I've got a couple of stops to make here and then I'll meet you right outside the Roman Ministry."

"What's your plan?" Albus asked.

"Albus, do you trust me?" James asked.

"Is that a question?" Albus asked.

"Professionally," James said.

"Yes," Albus said.

"Then get to Rome, I'll meet you there," James said. He hung up. Albus walked over to the two secretaries who stopped their own conversation.

"Well?" Richardson asked.

"We have a plan," Albus said. "But I have to leave you here. I trust you'll continue to investigate the explosion in Washington?"

"Of course," Richardson said. "And Whiteman."

"Bailey, you have the sample from Washington," Albus said. "I'll have someone send you the sample from England for testing. There's no need to fight when we're on the same side."

"Thank you," Bailey said.

"You know," Richardson said, "you'd make a great politician if you wanted."

Albus smiled. "Thank you sir," he said.

* * *

Harry Potter welcomed Scorpius back to the ward after lunch. Scorpius had brought some for Zachariah, but slouched his shoulders when he realized that Zachariah was still comatose.

"Still not awake huh?" Scorpius asked, setting the food down on a corner table.

"No," Harry said.

Scorpius shook his head. "I don't get it," Scorpius said. "He's completely healed. He should be awake."

"He hasn't eaten in almost three days," Harry said. "Is there any food you can feed him?"

"Nutrition shakes," Scorpius said. "That's about it. I'll go get one." Scorpius left the room.

A few minutes later he returned with a shake and a copy of the _Daily Prophet_. He handed the paper to Harry. Harry started to ask what article he was supposed to look at, but stopped when he saw the front page. There was a full sized picture of an irritated Albus with text across the bottom of the page:

**Albus Potter Delivers Threat!**

_by Rita Skeeter_

Albus Severus Potter, accused this morning of stealing

thirteen nuclear weapons, and detonating two of them, has

issued another threat. According to sources close to Scotland

Yard, a threat was received that Mr. Potter will attack London

itself within the next few days. The _Prophet _is urging all witches

and wizards to leave London for the indefinite future.

Relatedly, wizards throughout the country are calling for Mr. Potter's

termination from the auror department at the Ministry. Many are

already calling for Harry Potter's termination in relation to these

accusations. Mr. Harry Potter will certainly have to answer for his

son's crimes.

Meanwhile, Harry Potter seems to have disappeared from the

Ministry. I was turned away rudely by one Minerva Parker. Sources

have recently discovered that Minerva -

_continued on Pages 2 and 4_

Harry folded the paper and placed it next to Zachariah's lunch.

"No comment?" Scorpius asked as he finished causing Zachariah to magically absorb his shake.

"I owe Minerva a raise," Harry said.

"What did she do?" Ashley asked.

"Gave Rita Skeeter a rude welcome," Harry said. "Rita is attacking Albus in the _Prophet_."

"Never liked her," Ashley said.

"Me either," a male voice said from the door. Harry looked around and just registered John Wright entering the room with Charlotte's stroller before Ashley jumped up and embraced her brother.

"What about the threat?" Scorpius asked.

"I think Rita has been talking to Mr. Hawthorne," Harry said.

"What threat?" Ashley asked.

"The _Prophet _is reporting that a nuke will go off in London," Harry said.

"And they're saying that Albus said that?" Ashley asked.

"That's what they're saying," Harry said. "I really didn't expect the wizarding world to blame him."

"Just because Rita is doesn't mean the rest of us are," John said. "She's never liked you anyway."

"She isn't calling for my resignation yet," Harry said.

"Pretty close," Scorpius said.

"Do you really think one is heading for London?" Ashley asked.

Harry looked at her.

"You do," she said.

"I think we need to talk to Zachariah," Harry said. "He'll have something to help us. I'm sure of it."

"Who's Zachariah?" John asked. Harry pointed to the man on the bed. "Looks familiar," John said.

"He does?" Harry asked.

"Yeah," John said. "I can't place it though."

"I wonder," Harry said. He walked over to Charlotte's stroller and pulled the baby out. She fussed but quickly stopped as Harry began patting her back. "Ashley, your mother's last name is different from yours, correct?"

"Yes," she said eyeing him suspiciously. "My stepfather never formally adopted us."

"What happened to your father?" Harry asked.

"My dad, Paul Wright passed away shortly after I was born," she said.

"What's on your mind?" Scorpius asked.

"I think I may know a way to wake this man," Harry said.

"Zachariah?" Scorpius asked as Harry walked over to the bed.

"I'm not so sure that's his name," Harry said. He leaned over and gently placed Charlotte on his chest. "He's got a picture in his wallet that is way too close to Charlotte to be coincidence.

"What are you thinking?" Ashley asked.

"I'm thinking that Zachariah Johnson doesn't mean 'the Lord remembers; son of John," Harry said. "I think it means 'the Lord remembers that John is _my_ son.' You, John Wright." Zachariah moved his arms for the first time since coming to St. Mungo's. He gently held Charlotte close to his chest and whispered "Ashley."

"Nope," Harry said barley above a whisper himself.

Zachariah's eyes eased open and he looked down on Charlotte. "It's not Ashley?" he asked. Harry shook his head. "Where is she?"

Harry held up his hand to prevent Ashley from speaking. "Close by. You really had us frightened there."

"What happened?" Zachariah asked.

"You were shot," Harry said. "You've been in a coma for the past two days."

"Where am I?" he asked.

"London," Harry said. "I've got a question for you, standard medical procedure. Do you remember who you are?"

"Yeah," Zachariah said. "My name is Paul Wright."


	23. Chapter 22: All Roads Lead From Rome

Review Comments:

ladyrayne13: You have such a way with words ;-) That made me laugh so hard.

* * *

Chapter 22: All Roads Lead From Rome

James Potter pulled his magical cell phone out as he left the auror department. He dialed his father.

"Potter," Harry said after three rings.

"Hey, I've got a plan," James said. "I need you to meet me in your office in about two hours. Though I'd advise apparating outside of your office. You don't want to get splinched by some piece of lab equipment."

"How's Sarah doing?" Harry asked.

"She's become buddy, buddy with Minerva," James said. "They're trying to convince me to take part in a double date." He was entering the lift now, working his way back to the lobby.

"You. Going on a second date?" Harry asked.

"Hey," James said. "That happens."

"Yeah right," Harry said. "I'll meet you in my office, two hours."

"Bring an army if you can," James said. "I'm trying to end this now."

"Raising an army is not easy, son," Harry said. "But I'll bring everyone I can."

"Thanks," James said.

"And James," Harry began. James didn't hear the second half because he'd hung up, but he was pretty sure it was something like "Be safe." Harry always was trying to protect his children.

* * *

James' lift arrived in the lobby and he gently strode out to where he could apparate.

Three seconds later he arrived in an industrial district in downtown Rome. He bundled his robes against the light mist that filled the air, but the mist soaked through the robes immediately and he was vaguely aware that he shouldn't have worn robes. At least he should have checked the Weather before coming.

Red sparks emanated from the building on his right. It was a warehouse, large and rotting with disuse. James smiled. Why did there always seem to be buildings like these near Ministries? Didn't they realize that they were a defensive liability? Then he realized that there were plenty of them near his own Ministry.

James walked slowly into the warehouse, his wand firmly in his hand. The feeling in the empty and dark building was foreboding. The only light in the room came from three beams of daylight stretching from holes in the roof and the floor had a coating of water. He inched into the room.

Suddenly there was a wand in his face and his brother became visible in front of him. He pointed his own wand at his brother. "What was the last thing our sister told us before going to play for the Harpies?" Albus asked.

"Try not to kill each other," James replied. Lily had grown into her mother. It was disgusting.

Albus lowered his wand. "Not so fast," James said. He thought of something that would throw off any potential spies. "Who won the World Cup the year you were born?"

"Italy," Albus said immediately.

James lowered his wand. "The Director's done his research. I had to be sure."

"What made you think of that question?" Albus asked.

"The Director has been on top of everything so far," James said. "But I knew that you enjoyed football much more than quidditch and would answer the winner of the FIFA World Cup. An imposter, even if he knew what year you were born, would answer Egypt. They got great flying from Hussain that year."

"Indeed," Albus said. "So, what's your great plan?"

James pulled the wallet bag out of his pocket and produced two patent leather shoes out of it. They were the exact same brand that Albus had on that day. Priceless.

"Here, put these on," James said as he handed the shoes to Albus.

"Okay," Albus said slowly. "And these will help me get through the ministry undetected?"

"No," James said. "They're for plan B. I'm going with attack plan delta."

"Track something in the person's possession?" Albus asked. "What are we tracking?"

"Take off the shield cloak," James said, motioning for Albus to take the cloak off. "It won't work with it on."

"What won't work?" Albus asked, taking the cloak off. "Wait, I'm going to be the thing you're tracking, aren't I? That's your plan."

"Yeah," James said. "It's great isn't it?"

"Not really," Albus said. "I think I'm bait, and things don't work well for the bait."

James pulled his wand and placed a tracing spell on Albus. "That should do it," James said. "Now, you'll need to keep the cloak off for the spell to stay. Here's a new cloak." James pulled one from his bag.

"That cloak is needed for plan A," Albus said. "The one where I go into the Ministry and find the weapons."

"What do you plan to do in there?" James asked.

"Look for signs of magic," Albus said. James looked at him in shock. "What?" Albus asked.

"Look for signs of magic?" James asked. "It's a Ministry of Magic."

"I'll look for dark magic," Albus said.

"Well, find them if you can, but I don't think they're here," James said.

"Why the change?" Albus asked.

"Hawthorne needed to keep them someplace that makes sense so you'd find them. That way he could get his video of you with the weapons and frame you," James said. "Now that he has that video, he doesn't need to have them findable anymore. I think they're going to be in the most out of way place possible."

"So why am I even going in there?" Albus asked.

"For the possibility of being captured and traced," James said. "Weren't you listening? This guy is ego at its finest. If he has you, there is no doubt he'll take you to the weapons. Rub it in your face. Try to get more evidence to frame you."

"James, he's going to find that tracing spell in about two seconds. This isn't going to work," Albus said.

"Yeah, that's what makes the plan so genius," James said. "Father said we were going to need a muggle solution. How muggle is tracing something?"

"Muggle?" Albus said. James winked.

"Alright. See you somewhere soon. Try not to get killed," James said.

"Yeah," Albus said. James turned and was gone.

* * *

Albus Potter walked across the street to an ancient aqueduct running along the edge of the street. He'd been to the Roman Ministry before. It was one of the Ministries that Harry used to practice magical infiltrations. The goal was to get, unnoticed, to the British ambassador's office. James held the best time, beating Albus by only a minute. Albus never guessed that the training would come in so handy: Albus was planning to start looking in that very office. He confidently walked into one of the arches in the aqueduct and flexed his right arm. His wand fell gently into place. He took a deep breath, started a stopwatch, and placed his wand on the bricks.

The temperature of the air around him dropped ten degrees a split second before his vision shimmered. Buildings and streets around the aqueduct slowly dissolved into an open-air courtyard outside a large circular building.

The Roman Ministry was designed after the most recognizable building in Italy. Unlike the Persians, the Roman Magical Empire did fall. The Italian peninsula was ruled, magically, by a series of German governments from 507-1943 AD. In 1943, the American Ministry captured the peninsula and it was granted its own government in 1944. The new Ministry wanted to rekindle the fires of Empire. They named themselves Rome rather than Italy and built a new, giant Colosseum directly over the old. There were anti-muggle charms to prevent them from noticing the change.

The Colosseum stretched out in a sweeping circle in front of him. The building was five stories of arches. Each one on floors two through five was a window into a working office. Albus knew that the office he was looking for was on the opposite side of the building from where he was standing. He also knew that if he went in the lobby, like he had the last time, he wouldn't leave. Someone would recognize him and he'd be captured by the wrong people.

He walked along the aqueduct silently disappearing into the shadows. The people who were walking around continued their hard work and ignored the hardly visible man.

Albus shifted from the safety of the aqueduct and moved along the edge of a line of trees that the muggles could see. He was now halfway around the building, but he'd have to enter it soon. There wasn't a back door on the lower level.

He began to cross the field to the building when he noticed an open window just to the edge of the building. The window was on the third floor, but that would be easily fixed. Plus he noticed a small Union Jack in the window under it. It was perfect. He slipped back into the shadows and continued to circle the building. He realized that the tree line would end soon: he'd have to make this quick.

Albus stopped at the edge of the tree line and found the window. His wand appeared in his hand again as he studied the wall next to the window. Pointing his wand at the window, he urged a small brick to grow out from the wall about a foot. It would be a tight fit, but he couldn't risk any more. He raised the wand until it pointed to a brick about four feet higher and whispered _"occia_."

The spell was something he'd discovered in auror school. The spell _Accio _was well known. _Occia_ was related to that one. But while _accio _caused an object to come toward you; saying it backward pulled you toward the object.

Holding tight to the wand, Albus felt himself jerk off the ground and fly toward the brick at about forty miles per hour. Hours of practice allowed him to break the spell a second before he hit the wall and gently fall on the outstretched brick. He heard shouts from below as he ducked into the window, but he doubted anyone would have been able to recognize exactly who had flown through the air.

The office he entered was not organized. Papers were at least on the desk in the middle of the room, but there was nothing resembling a pile. The filing cabinet had two drawers. The bottom one was closed while the top one was missing its front cover. And most importantly, the office was empty. Albus shook his head. He knew the owner of the office was sitting across the walkway outside his door. Each office came off a walkway around the Colosseum. On the other side of the walkway was a seating box that overlooked the main Congress that met inside the arena under a roof bewitched to look like the sky above.

Staircases were spaced evenly around the building but Albus had no plans to find one. He gently lowered his wand to point at the floor after he moved to the middle of the office, right in front of the desk. Then he began to chant, moving his wand in a circle. The spell was one he'd learned in his final year of Transfiguration. It turned stone to water. And lucky for him, the Colosseum was made of stone. The chanting contained the spell to a circle directly around him. After a minute he actually said the spell. And then he dropped through the liquefied floor.

A female scream met him as he landed in a kneeling position in the center of the office below. He found the woman and fixed his wand on her chest as he gently stopped the stopwatch in his pocket. He knew he'd beat James' time this time. "Sit," he said. She obliged. Ropes sprung from the chair and wrapped themselves around her.

She was petite and short, probably no more than five feet tall. Her long, blonde hair hung around her shoulders and she was wearing a set of softly pink robes. Albus noticed that her wand was on the desk in the back of the room, well beyond her reach. He summoned the wand and pocketed it.

Smiling at the secretary, he began to search the wall. He knew he would have to touch the wall in order to feel the minute differences from the dark magic. He began to move a bookcase but he doubted it would do any good. He was on the second floor. If Hawthorne had built a bunker here, he'd have a really, really long and steep staircase to get there.

Albus turned back to the secretary and walked to sit across from her. "I'm looking for a man who once sat at this desk," Albus said. "A man named Walter Hawthorne. Do you know him?"

Albus could see the lie forming in her eyes even before she said "No."

"I have significant evidence that he is responsible for the terrorist attacks," Albus said. "And I believe that he's not done killing millions of people."

"He said you were responsible," the woman said.

"So you do know him," Albus said. She started to respond but quickly shut her mouth. "He has no evidence that puts me anywhere the bombs were _before _they were there. I have plenty that does exactly that to him. Now, if you want to save millions of lives, including your own, maybe you could help me find the weapons."

"I don't know where the weapons are," she said. Albus thought it was the truth, but he knew she was still hiding something.

"You know something," Albus said.

"Um," she said. A blush was starting to form in her cheeks. "He's visited the office a few times. He'd take me to a cabin to...um."

"I got it," Albus said to save her the trouble. It saved time too. "Where was this cabin?"

"In the Alps," she said. "I've got a picture of the view from the balcony in the filing cabinet if you let me find it."

Albus could see the truth in her eyes, but took a moment to decide how to get the picture. He could certainly find it himself, but he doubted he'd find it before security reached the office above him. And there was still a gaping hole where he'd turned the stone to water. The woman would find it much sooner. He released the ropes.

Both people rose at the same time and Albus trained his wand on her as she walked over to the cabinet. She opened a drawer and bent over it clearly trying to distract him as she searched for the photo. Albus looked away to avoid the shaking butt.

He noticed the red spell coming at him too late and it hit him square in the chest.


	24. Chapter 23: London Bridge is Falling Dow

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Chapter 23: London Bridge is Falling Down

Harry allowed his shoulder to be used as a crutch as he stood in line at McDonald's. Standing next to him, leaning on the shoulder, was Oliver Clay. Or Zachariah Johnson. Or Paul Wright. Harry really wasn't sure what to make of the secretive man he was about to buy a Happy Meal for. But he was willing to count him as a friend; and that was saying something.

The two got their hamburgers and walked to a table overlooking the Thames a few blocks away. Down river about a mile was the towering clock of Big Ben and the very top of the Eye of London. Harry smiled. Just five years previously, a Wizarding war had set fire to Big Ben, toppled the Eye of London and almost sent the Tower of London sliding into the river. Magic had rebuilt the city. Now the muggles wanted to kill them in repayment. Then again, if the Prophet was correct, magic may well destroy them all beyond repair soon.

"You look lost in thought," Zachariah said sitting down.

"Thinking about the city," Harry said. "I do have a question for you though."

"Anything," Zachariah said.

"What do you want me to call you? Zachariah or Paul?"

"I had my name officially changed to Zachariah Johnson for a reason. I created a new life and forgot about Paul Wright. I had to for my kids to get my pension. Call me Zachariah. If the government finds out about who I am…"

"Your family loses their pension?" Harry guessed.

"They have to pay it all back," Zachariah said.

"Oh. Glad I asked," Harry said.

"I appreciate you asking," Zachariah said. "And thanks for the hamburger. That hospital food is terrible."

"You'd think with magic we'd be able to do better," Harry said with a chuckle.

Zachariah shook his head and gave a half-hearted chuckle. "You know, for twenty five years all I've wanted was to find out what my kids were up to. Wanted more than anything to hear one of them tell me they loved me; just one time. Just once. Now all I want is for things to go back to how they were."

Harry nodded slightly. "They won't," he said.

"If Ashley's anything like her mother that's true," Zachariah said. "How's Albus?" he asked.

"Missing," Harry said. "I was hoping you could help me with that. Do you remember anything?"

"Not much," Zachariah said. His face contorted as he tried to remember. "I remember the airplane. Albus attacked a military guy and got onto an airplane."

"Attacked?" Harry asked.

"Yeah. He said he'd stunned him. Then he took the uniform and kind of morphed into the guy. It was really weird."

"Okay," Harry said. "So you got on the airplane. Do you remember where the plane was going?"

Zachariah paused trying to remember. "An Air Force base in America," he said.

"Do you remember which one?" Harry asked.

"No," Zachariah said. "I...I'm trying, I really am! I just..."

"It's okay," Harry said.

"No! It's not okay! This is important or you wouldn't be asking me. Albus is missing and I can't help you find him!"

Harry put his hand on Zachariah's arm to quiet him down. The muggles around the restaurant were starting to look over. "Albus is missing, but trust me it's not your fault. He's more than capable of taking care of himself."

"I don't want to lose another partner," Zachariah said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I can't take that. Not again."

"I know," Harry said.

"What did I miss then while I was out?" Zachariah said.

"Washington D.C. was nuked by the terrorist. We identified the terrorist as your Director, Walter Hawthorne." Zachariah actually dropped his burger at this news but said nothing. "Hawthorne is trying to frame Albus for the bombings and insinuate that every wizard and witch in the world is helping him do it. He's issued a threat via magical newspaper that London itself will be bombed in the next couple of days. We're trying to prevent that."

"Do you think it's a viable threat?" Zachariah asked.

"He's trying to frame wizards. Now he's got a magical paper warning of the attack with way more specifics than the muggle warning. If the bomb goes off as planned, there won't be a witch or wizard killed in the city. It will further the frame. In other words, yes I think it a viable threat," Harry said.

"We thought he was trying to start World War III," Zachariah said. "If that's not the endgame, what is?"

"Oh, he's still trying to start World War III," Harry said. "But instead of country on country it's muggles against wizards. So instead of the Cold War, you have the Spanish Inquisition and the Salem Witch Trials put together. What I don't understand is why." His phone rang and he flipped it open. "Potter," he said.

"Hey, I've got a plan," he heard his son say on the other end. He excused himself from the table as he listened to his son's plan.

A few minutes later he sat back down beside Zachariah. "James, my other son, has a plan. He said he's trying to end this now, which probably means he's found Albus. I have to go raise an Army, if I can, so I'm going to have to take you back to St. Mungo's for the time being."

"No," Zachariah said. "If you're raising an army then it has to do with Albus. I'm coming too. I'll be part of your army."

"You can't. You haven't been cleared," Harry said.

"You said I've been healthy for the past few days," Zachariah reasoned. "And you need all the help you can get."

"It's going to be a magical fight," Harry said.

"I've been in a few of those the past few days," Zachariah said.

"Yeah, you got shot in one," Harry said.

"Yes," Zachariah said. "For my partner. And I'd do it again if he needed me to. It's what partners do. Not to mention he's apparently my son-in-law."

Harry stared into Zachariah's eyes as Zachariah stared back for several minutes. Finally, Harry said "Alright. But we're not responsible for your safety."

"Understood," Zachariah said. He took the last bite of his hamburger and they got up to leave. "Where are we going?" he asked.

"We'll still need to return to St. Mungo's to pick up Ashley and figure out what John and Charlotte plan to do," Harry said. "Then, we'll go to the ministry and see who else we can get together."

"Any ideas on that front?" Zachariah asked as they stepped outside.

"Well, my wife and daughter are off in Iceland on some wilderness adventure and don't have access to any technology or communication. They probably don't even know this is going on. Ron and Hermione will come if they pick up the phone. They'd bring the Hogwarts staff; at least the ones who are at the castle. Minerva and a couple of other aurors are back at the office. But I doubt I'll be able to wrestle up even ten people on such short notice."

"Almost none of that made sense," Zachariah said. "But I trust you'll do your best."

Harry smiled. The two started to walk the block back to St. Mungo's.

There was a blinding flash and they were knocked to the ground by a force of wind. The glass in every window around them simultaneously shattered and fell. Then they heard the blast. A ringing sound exploded in Harry's ears. Buildings spontaneously burst into flames and some of the older ones actually fell. One almost hit them.

Harry couldn't hear anything but the ringing; he could see only a few feet in front of him in tunnel vision. He tried to stand but immediately fell back over because he couldn't balance. He found a pole that was still standing and used it to brace himself as he stood. It was hot but he held on.

It took him a little bit to find Zachariah lying on the sidewalk, but he finally did. He managed to stumble over to him as he was pushing himself up off the sidewalk. Harry put his arm on Zachariah's shoulder and offered him a hand. Zachariah gladly took it and stood, leaning on Harry for support. He said something to Harry but Harry could still only hear the ringing of his eardrums. There was blood on Zachariah's face from what appeared to be a broken nose. Harry could only imagine what his own face looked like.

Zachariah's eyes grew to about three times their normal size and his mouth dropped farther than Harry thought humanly possible. Harry started to turn around, but Zachariah fell without the support. Harry moved cautiously, trying to keep himself under Zachariah's arm while turning.

A mushroom cloud dominated what was left of the skyline of London.

Smoke was rising inside and around a large circular opening. Big Ben survived, but was engulfed in flames. The Eye was nowhere to be seen. Harry looked at the burning buildings and was thinking that the Tower of London would still be standing, but was definitely going to be affected. The district that covered the top of the Ministry of Magic was gone. Harry suspected that the Ministry itself, being underground, was still functioning. Yet another thing to support the Director's claim.

He looked closer to him and noticed a few bodies scrambling to get out of what was left of the McDonald's. Muggles in suits were running from the buildings along the street, panic visible in their eyes. Harry grabbed Zachariah and shoved him down the street as the first emergency vehicles rushed by them toward the blast. Harry knew they'd get as close as they could and then begin to pick up as many survivors as they could find. And then they'd be back.

"I don't believe it," Harry finally heard Zachariah repeating. The ringing in his ears was dying some.

"Me either but we need to go," Harry said. "We've got to get to the Ministry and find out what James is planning."

"Can't you just magically get there?" Zachariah asked.

"No," Harry said. "No magic this public. At least not this close to the blast. We've got enough problems already and that would just add one more."

"Can't you do anything?" Zachariah said. "That's...that's...London." Zachariah's voice trailed off with each word.

"Yeah," Harry said, realization dawning on him. "I can start gathering that army. Can you stand?"

"I think so," Zachariah said.

"Good," Harry said. He released Zachariah some and he was able to walk on ahead on his own power. Harry pulled out his phone and instinctively dialed Hermione first. When he needed advice on a situation like this, he always turned to Hermione Weasley.


	25. Chapter 24: Healing the Rift

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ladyrayne13: No worries about missing one :-) Thanks for the comment: Dumbledore ALWAYS knows best!

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* * *

Chapter 24: Healing the Rift

Aviva Gray drank her third Six Hour Energy of the night as she rode inside the empty ambulance. She didn't think it would do any real good though: by now she was operating purely off adrenaline. They'd been working all day, taking people (often three or four) from downtown to the outlying hospitals. They'd had to stop for gas three times already and she suspected they'd have to again soon. It didn't feel like they'd even made a dent.

The sirens sounded overhead as the ambulance stopped and she exited the back. She'd had help in the morning, but the guy had stayed behind to help at the last hospital.

Aviva exited onto a street exactly like all the others they'd visited that afternoon. The buildings that were left were gutted. The larger buildings had blackened steel pillars showing the skeletal remains of the building they once supported. The smaller ones had used wooden supports and therefore were completely gone. The fires had gone out after the noonday rain shower but the bomb had done plenty of damage. The shower had also blown the mushroom cloud out of the sky.

Aviva was sure that radiation had poured from the sky onto her and everyone else in London during that storm. She shivered as she thought about it, and wished she could contact her mother for the millionth time that day. But she couldn't. If she did, someone would find out what her mother was. What she should be.

A moaning sound brought Aviva out of her daydream. She grabbed the stretcher from the back, ignoring the blood only somewhat cleaned off top, and rushed to the man's side.

He was missing his right arm, but the wound had cauterized reducing the loss of blood. There were cuts all over his right side and a couple on his leg seemed pretty serious. Aviva gave him credit for courage though: he'd crawled here from a long way away.

"Hello sir," Aviva said, rolling the stroller up next to him. "My name is Aviva, I'm here to help you."

"Help!" the man said. His eyes told her that he wasn't quite sure what was going on.

"It's okay, sir," Aviva said. "We're here to help you."

The man nodded and seemed to relax. It took Aviva and the two men in the front of the ambulance to load the man on the stretcher. The ambulance crews had been mixed today. She'd never gotten a chance to learn their names. Then the navigator left to find a hospital with some room left while the driver helped Aviva get the stroller into the back. The driver smiled weakly at her as he shut her in with the patient.

Aviva hooked the man up to what equipment was still working in the back and sat down in her chair. It was the one place that was still clear of paper and used cords and IV's. She knew she'd be alone for a few moments: the drivers were going to be trying to find a hospital with room and the patient was now passed out but stable. She pulled out her phone and turned it on. She didn't even wait for the missed call notifications before dialing her mother.

"Aviva, is that you?" he mother, Torri, said on the other end.

"Hi Mum," Aviva said as the ambulance started again.

"Aviva, where are you? I've been calling all day!" Torri said.

"I've been working Mum," Aviva said. "Where are you? Are you okay?"

"I'm in Devon with your aunt. Where are you?" Tori asked.

"I'm in London," Aviva said.

"Bloody hell, what are you doing there?" Torri asked. "You get out of there this instant!"

"It's my job Mum," Aviva said. "I'm not going anywhere. Weren't you in London this morning?"

"Yeah but the _Prophet _told us to leave so we did," Torri said. "It said there was a direct threat on London. Didn't you get that message?"

"No," Aviva said. "No muggle news reported a direct threat to the city."

"Wow," Torri said. "That's terrible. I can't imagine the death toll. The _Prophet _is reporting that no wizards were injured."

"What?" Aviva asked. "None?"

"Well, it says that everyone left. The only non-muggles in the city when the bomb went off were in the Ministry. Being underground, the Ministry acted as a kind of bunker," Torri said.

Aviva said nothing.

"Aviva, honey?" Torri asked.

"Still here," Aviva said.

"You be careful, okay. We're planning on staying here for a few days, at least until it all passes by. We'd really like you to join us," Torri said.

"I'm not a witch, I really can't join you right now," Aviva said.

"Oh, now, don't be like that," Torri said. "We're over your failures."

"Thanks for that Mum," Aviva said. "Gotta go." She hung up before her mother could give some fake apology. She'd always been the black sheep of the family.

She was the squib.

The ambulance stopped ten minutes later and she helped the ambulance's navigator unload the patient, carefully taking the beeping equipment with them.

"No! No! No! NO!" a woman said as she ran out of the hospital toward them. "No! We cannot have another!"

"Please mam," their driver said. "He's lost an arm; he's passed out."

"I don't care what his problems are, WE ARE FULL!" she put her finger into the man's chest with each of the last three words.

"Full?" Aviva asked. Full was a word she hadn't heard that day. "Surely you can find room for one more bed."

"We've used all of our back up beds and tables," the woman said. "We've got bodies on the floor now. Every inch of usable walking space is taken with bodies; both dead and alive. We don't even have room to walk around them. We've called in every doctor we have and we still have people waiting to be seen for five hours. We just don't have room for one more."

"Then what do we do?" the driver said. "No hospital in the metro is willing to take another."

"Then you have to heal him yourself. The damn wizards have got this place overflowing," the woman said. She turned and went back inside without a second glance.

Their driver turned and walked up to them. "What now?" he asked.

"We'll have to find another hospital," their navigator said.

"Where?" the driver said without even trying to hide his anger.

"Further out," the navigator said. "There's got to be another hospital somewhere."

"No!" the driver said. "There is no other hospital for God's sake!"

Aviva was hardly listening to the conversation. She'd been struck by the woman from the hospital, and specifically one word she had said. She'd told them to heal him; not operate on him or sedate him. Heal him.

When she'd been in school, she'd learned about the oath of all medical personnel: Do No Harm. About halfway through the lesson, she'd raised her hand and asked how far that oath went.

"What do you mean?" Professor Clarke had asked.

"Well, if it comes down to us or the patient, what do we do?" she'd asked.

"Well, our goal is to do no harm," Clarke had said. "But, if harm is unavoidable, don't injure more people. In the rare case that you cannot do anything for the patient safely then you don't harm yourself."

Aviva shook her head as the two men rambled on and on around her. "No," she said to Professor Clarke in her daydream. "You're wrong."

"Wrong?" the ambulance driver said. "How am I wrong?"

Trying to catch up, Aviva said "Sorry?"

"I was saying that there is no other hospital and you said I was wrong," the driver said.

_I'm going to die for this, _Aviva thought as she took a deep breath. "There is another hospital," she said. "But I'm going to have to navigate."

* * *

"You sure you know where you're going?" the driver asked her an hour later. She'd found out the driver's name was Hughes. She'd been taking them on a wild goose chase through the heart of London which wasn't exactly easy anymore.

"I'm looking for landmarks," Aviva said. "Most of which aren't still here."

"He's dying back there," Hughes reminded her.

"He'd be dying if we'd tried to go to the next city over too," she said. "Turn right up here."

He turned right and the open space of the blast zone appeared about a mile ahead.

"Yes, there's the McDonald's that my mother always took me to," Aviva said.

"Your mother?" Hughes asked.

Aviva felt her face blush. "Yeah, my father was very ill for about two years before he died. We practically lived at St. Mungo's."

"St. Mungo's?" Hughes asked. "Never heard of it."

"Yeah, I know," Aviva said. "The hospital is on the street one block to your right."

"There's no connecting street between here and the blast zone," Hughes said. "We'll have to turn around."

The walkie on the dash crackled. "Guys, he's gonna need to get there really soon," their third person said from the back.

"We don't have time to turn around," Aviva said. "Go through the blast zone."

"Are you nuts?" Hughes asked.

"You turn around he dies," Aviva reminded him. "What's his name anyway?"

"Our helper or the patient?" Hughes asked.

"Our helper," Aviva said.

"Green," Hughes said. He grabbed the walkie and said "Brace yourself." The ambulance bounced severely as it crossed into the beat up road of the blast zone. Hughes drove into some gray dust while trying to maintain sight of the road.

He pulled his air horn and watched a bit of the gray mud fly into the air. A badly damaged and potholed street became uncovered just ahead and Hughes pressed the brakes hard to turn gently onto the street.

Once he'd completed the turn, he saw the steel beam that was cutting it in two. Cursing, he pulled the ambulance left, toward ground zero, to avoid the beam. They bounced left and right as they drove over what was left of a building and finally arrived on what appeared a large street. He turned back away from ground zero and found the McDonald's that Aviva had pointed out. He looked for the next opening in the buildings and gently headed for it. Bouncing over another small shack, the ambulance pulled out of the blast zone and into the badly damaged street. He finally sped up.

"There!" Aviva said, pointing to the old looking red brick department store. A sign saying Purge and Dowse Ltd. was hanging dangerously over the entrance. A large, green garage door was badly painted next to it. The glass had been blown out but it was the least damaged building for miles.

"The store?" Hughes asked.

"It's disguised," Aviva said.

"Why do you disguise a hospital?" Hughes asked.

Aviva started to answer but closed her mouth. "Help Green get our patient out of the back," she said. "I'll...get us inside."

Hughes pulled the ambulance up next to the store and got out. He went to the back of the ambulance as Aviva walked up to the store front.

A large sign on the door appeared to read "CLOSED FOR REFURBISHMENT" but it was so faded it was hard to read. Several mannequins stood in the windows wearing clothes that were fashionable in about 2003. Several others were knocked onto the floor.

Aviva walked in front of the window extending between the two doors. She looked up at the female mannequin dressed in a horrible brown skirt and orange tights combination. "I have a patient for you," Aviva said to the mannequin. "He was injured in the blast."

Aviva could see Hughes and Green coming around the edge of the ambulance and trying to find somewhere to raise it onto the sidewalk. "Please," Aviva said to the mannequin. "I know you can hear me."

"We do not accept muggles," the mannequin said without moving.

"Now's not the time to do this," Aviva said.

"We didn't start it," the mannequin said. It turned to stare her down. Aviva could see Hughes and Green freeze as they watched it. "You are accusing wizards of everything. You and filth like you, you're the one starting a witch hunt."

"Every muggle hospital is full," Aviva said. "I know you have room in there and this man needs treatment! He needs Healing!"

"Take care of him yourself!" the mannequin said, its features starting to contort in anger. "I'll not have muggle filth defiling my halls!"

"I want to speak to the Head Healer," Aviva said, not backing down.

"You are," the mannequin said. "And the answer is still no."

"Damn it, you're this man's only hope!" Aviva said.

"Then maybe the muggles should have built more hospitals," the mannequin said. "They could have helped you."

"THIS ISN'T ABOUT TURF!" Aviva shouted. Hughes and Green had joined her now. "THIS MAN IS DYING AND I KNOW YOU HAVE THE ROOM TO HEAL HIM AND SEVERAL OTHERS TOO!"

"What makes you think that?" the mannequin asked unconcerned.

Aviva bit her lip. "Because no witch or wizard was injured in the blast," she said.

"Witch or wizard?" Hughes asked scandalized. "You took us to a magical hospital?"

"Wait, the magic stuff is real?" Green asked.

"They have room and they can help," Aviva repeated with as much conviction as she could muster.

"We need to reserve that room for witches and wizards," the mannequin said. "We've evicted all our muggles and I'll not have another, filthy-blooded ape inside these hallowed ha - " The mannequin doubled over as if suddenly dying and became silent.

"What just happened?" Green asked.

Suddenly a metal grinding sound came from their right as the garage door began to slowly rise to their right. Aviva remained where she was but tried to get a better view of the garage. At least sixteen beds sat empty inside the garage and two men stood at the door. One had a wand pulled and was raising the door. The other wore the green robes of a St. Mungo's healer. He beckoned them toward him as the door locked in place.

"Let's go," Aviva said, breaking the shock of her two helpers. They pushed the patient toward the garage.

"We'll help him," the healer said when they got close.

"Why would you help a non-magical person?" Green asked sincerely.

"Because it's the right thing to do," the other man said.

"John, take him to the muggle ward," the healer said. The other man laughed and nodded. Hughes helped him with the bed.

"What's so funny?" Aviva asked.

"We've had a couple of muggles here the past couple days," the healer said. "I don't think the Head Healer liked it much. We nicknamed it the muggle ward. They left with Harry Potter this morning."

"Harry, as in Albus?" Green asked.

"Albus' father, yes," the healer said. "And one of the most honorable families on the planet. I'll stand behind the Potter's character till I die."

"I don't know what to believe anymore," Green said. "This is out of character for wizards."

"No, this is in character for my mother's kind," Aviva said.

"Look, we've called in every available wand to help. Some of them don't know the healing spells. Do you know them, miss?" the healer asked.

"I'm a squib," Aviva said.

"That wasn't an answer," the healer said.

"I studied the spells when I was 9," Aviva said. "Back when my father was here. I still know the theory."

"Could you teach the new wands?" the healer asked.

"I'm needed in the ambulance," she said.

"We need you to direct everyone here if we're to fill up tonight," the healer said to Green. "Can you do that?"

"No, but Hughes might be able to," he said. "I could maybe learn eventually."

"Good. Please do that," the healer said.

"Why the change in policy? Why take in muggles when your Head is so against it?" Aviva asked. "Not that I'm complaining."

"There has been a mutiny," the healer said. "The Head Healer is no longer in charge."

"Who is?" Aviva said.

The healer smiled. "Scorpius Malfoy," he said.

"A Malfoy?" Aviva asked. "A Malfoy is helping others, let alone muggles?"

"Yup," the healer said.

"How long's he been here?" Aviva asked.

"Oh, he's just a rookie," the healer said.

"Great," Aviva mumbled as they walked inside, finally confident that something was going right today.

.


	26. Chapter 25: A Muggle Solution

Review Comments:

ladyrayne13: Thanks for the review! I try, and this chapter will certainly keep you at the edge of your seat! Yup, Mungo's will be "healing" the situation, Scorpius at the lead. I always felt that the family got a raw deal.

dannielle: Yea! Another review! Thank you for the compliment on the writing and thanks for sticking through two stories (at least I hope you'll come back for these last few chapters). As for the ginger Albus, well JK was just wrong! (okay, it's her story she can choose...) I've always thought that the magical traits of Lily's eyes and James' untidy hair would go through. The Weasley red hair was another that I thought would make it's way in but Rowling didn't agree with me. Still...

A/N: If you're like me, you may want a tissue or two handy for this one.

* * *

Chapter 25: A Muggle Solution

James apparated directly into the auror office and ran for Sarah and Minerva's makeshift lab. He didn't want to be playing with his brother's life and if this plan wasn't going to work, he'd need to think of something else quick.

His father appeared just past the office, carrying Zachariah along with him. Zachariah looked pretty good for someone who'd just apparated, but seemed to still need a minute to get his bearing.

"What's going on?" Harry asked as James approached.

"Albus and I initiated attack plan Delta," James said.

"Delta?" Harry asked. "What are you tracking?"

"We're tracking Albus," James said.

"Albus has been captured?" Harry asked.

"There's a very real possibility that he will be," James said opening the door to the lab. "And then, I'm confident that Hawthorne will try to gloat. Then we'll have him. Where's the army?"

"Coming," Harry said. At that very moment, Hermione and Ron appeared at the entrance to the office.

"Tell me you have him," James said entering the lab. Sarah stood at a central computer typing away madly at the keyboard. Minerva stood behind the computer and smiled at James walking in. And one person that James had not expected at all stood next to Sarah, asking her about the program she was using.

"Uncle Arthur," James said, walking up to Arthur Weasley. "Now is not the time to be bugging her. Maybe later."

"Oh, he's not bugging me," Sarah said without breaking eye contact with the screen. "He's trying to help me find that tracking device."

"What exactly is going on here?" Ashley asked as she entered with Zachariah. Harry had stayed outside with Hermione and Ron.

"You telling me you don't know where he is?" James asked.

"No," Sarah said. The view on the screen zoomed out so much that James was beginning to recognize the boot shape at the bottom of Italy. "Just a momentary misplacement."

"Don't know where who is?" Ashley said. "You were supposed to be finding Albus, James." The resentment was thick in her voice.

"That's what I'm doing," James said.

"Got him!" Sarah said triumphantly as the map zoomed out far enough to show the English Channel along the edge. A red light flashed in the middle of the continent.

"Where is that?" James asked. He noticed that Harry, Hermione and Ron had walked into the room after that exclamation. Behind them were Professor Longbottom and an auror named Matthew Olsen. Matthew closed the door gently behind him.

"Somewhere in Switzerland," Sarah said she was zooming in on the map.

"Is it accessible?" Harry asked. Minerva had moved around to face the screen.

"It's in the middle of the mountains," she said. "But the odds are that if Albus could access it, you can too."

"We need to have a visual of our target to apparate," Harry said. "Can you find a landmark nearby so we can Google an image?"

"Better," Sarah said. "I can get you satellite pictures of the very spot."

* * *

Albus's head throbbed as he tried to make sense of where he was. He could feel that he was tied to a chair. He stretched his hands out and realized he wasn't pushed up close enough to a wall for it to be any good. Probably was placed in the center of whatever room he was in. Focusing on his feeling, he could tell that the holster on his right arm was empty: his wand was missing. The room tasted moldy, like a basement and it was cold.

Gently, he opened his eyes. The wall in front of him was very familiar: just like the bunker walls in Ft. Charles and Whiteman. He tried to look around him but his neck wouldn't move. There was a motor sound to his right but he had no clue what it was.

A person walked into his view. "He's awake," a voice that Albus recognized all too well said. With great effort, Albus lifted his head to look into the eyes of Walter Hawthorne. He said nothing.

"Welcome to the lair," Hawthorne said, motioning around him.

"Walter Hawthorne," Albus said with distaste.

"Surprised?" Hawthorne asked. "Hmm, guess the lab got the report off then. Oh well, it didn't do you much good."

"Why did you blow up the lab?" Albus asked.

"Wouldn't do much good to frame you if there was evidence implementing me now would it?" Hawthorne said. "Still, I never expected you to be so stupid as to show up in Rome. Thanks for that."

"I didn't think anyone there was loyal to you," Albus said.

"Just takes a bit of sweet talking with some," Hawthorne said, waving the comment off. He stood from the wall and walked to Albus' right. "Now it pays off well," he continued. "The added video of you with the bombs will be priceless."

"My friends will stop you from getting that far," Albus said.

"Friends?" Hawthorne asked, coming back into view. "What friends? The ones coming when they track you to find me?" Albus let shock show in his face. "Attack plan delta, right? Look around you Albus." Albus did look around. In his field of vision, there was a robot with a rounded body and a gun for the left arm. Two more of the robots stood without moving to Albus' left.

"I spent a decade planning this," Hawthorne continued. "I've thought everything through, down to who serves me and how to ensure their allegiance. That's why I've got robots to do the dirty work. There is no magical strategy that can defeat me, nothing your Ministry can try that I haven't already countered. This building has been laced with defensive spells including anti-tracking ones."

"Why?" Albus asked. "Why are you doing this?"

"Why do you think I would answer that question?" Hawthorne asked.

"Because you took me here," Albus said. "You want to gloat. You want to explain it."

Hawthorne smiled. "You would have made a great agent, Potter," he said. "Alright, I'll tell you why. You have a daughter right?" Albus nodded. "I did this for her, and those like her."

"I don't follow," Albus said.

"Deuteronomy 18:10, 12," Hawthorne said. "There shall not be found among you anyone who makes his son or his daughter pass through the fire, or one who practices witchcraft, or a soothsayer, or one who interprets omens, or a sorcerer...All who do these things are an abomination to the LORD." Hawthorne snapped his fingers and a robot with two actual hands brought a chair forward. Hawthorne positioned it in front of Albus and sat. "Those who practice witchcraft; you me and our kind; are an abomination to the LORD. We must be eradicated from the Earth. To that end, I have done this."

"By using witchcraft?" Albus asked.

Hawthorne shrugged. "I used magic the first twenty years of my life. I'm already going to hell. But you have a daughter. I have a grandson. They don't have to. By destroying the magical world, I'm saving them from the realization of what they can do. I'm saving them from Hell itself."

"It won't work," Albus said. "We'll just go further into hiding, set up anti-muggle spells and wait it out. You can't destroy the entire magical world."

Hawthorne got up and turned Albus' chair around.

His heart sank. There were twenty nukes sitting around the bunker, well more than the eleven he counted as left from Ft. Charles. Actually, he only counted ten of those round weapons. "That's where these come in," Hawthorne said, leaning in to whisper in his ear. "Recognize them? They're the weapons you stole from Ft. Charles and a few thrown in from your trip to Whiteman. Did you know you visited India and took a few from there as well?" Hawthorne turned him around again and sat down. "They're going to capitals all around the world later tonight. The most populous nations and the most powerful. They're the answer to your spells."

"I'm not following again," Albus said.

"You're anti-muggle spells affect a thinking mind," Hawthorne said. "These weapons will knock out the muggle governments. Anarchy will ensue and giant mobs will go out searching for the wizards responsible. Mobs don't have thinking brains so your spells won't keep them away. Wizards will be forced to split up and fend for themselves. And then...well, one wizard against a mob of muggles is a mismatch. It may take a while, but the horror of these attacks will motivate muggles for centuries to hunt you all down."

"Well, you were right, Hawthorne," Albus said. "No magical plan seems to be able to beat you."

"Thank you," Hawthorne said getting up. "Now, smile for the camera; we need our evidence." He hit a button on the wall and there was a flash from above his head. He'd be nowhere in the shot. "Now, I'm afraid that I can't have you go off blabbing everything I just said so, I'm going to have to kill you." Hawthorne pulled a long, black wand from his pocket.

The faintest noise was heard from outside. "My family makes a habit of surviving killing curses," Albus said.

"Not this time," Hawthorne said. He brushed his hand along his wand and brought it back.

Gunshots rang out from above them.

Hawthorne looked up puzzled. "Looks like my friends are here," Albus said calmly.

"Impossible, no tracing spell could work here," Hawthorne said.

"Who said we were tracing a spell?" Albus asked.

"What?" Hawthorne screamed at him. "A muggle device? Where?"

Hawthorne raised his wand again and shouted "_Cruci_-"

"Left shoe! Left shoe!" Albus said, cutting the spell short. A Cruciatus Curse could stop his recording device. Hawthorne rushed to him and pulled the shoe off. He reached inside and pulled a blinking red light out of the heel and threw it on the ground. Whipping his wand around, the lightbulb turned to dust.

When he looked at Albus again, his face was murderous. "Your friends will watch you die when I return," he said. He ran toward the exit, behind Albus to his right. "If my robots haven't already killed them!" he said as he walked up the stairs.

* * *

Ashley stood in the middle of what James had called an army. The ten people, one of them a muggle, appeared suddenly a hundred yards down the mountain from a large, wooden shack. The shack was two stories tall with a wraparound porch. The brown of the wood had been kept, complete with brown trim and the snow all around on the mountainside bathed it in reflected sunlight.

Harry stood three people to Ashley's left and Arthur stood directly to her right. Both took their wands and shot a jet of hot air toward the cabin. The snow melted before them in a wide wall as if the snow had been parted. The water settled down and created a muddy mire.

The pair continued to shoot hot air and the mud caked to dry ground. They dropped their wands and the group proceeded to step two of the plan. Ashley had wanted to go immediately upon getting the satellite image of the cabin, but Harry and James had insisted upon creating a plan of attack. Now the group staggered themselves across the makeshift land bridge, slowly advancing toward the cabin. Harry had assured her that the plan made them less likely to be hit by a spell during the approach. The muggle Zachariah Johnson would be one of the last to begin his assent. He'd supply backup if anyone did fire at them from the cabin. Ashley had insisted upon staying behind with her father. After all, she'd only had one for about twenty hours.

Gunfire erupted from two windows on the upper level and the group just barely managed to conjure shields to protect themselves. Zachariah pulled his gun and opened fire into the windows himself, but Ashley knew it wouldn't do any good. She'd recognized the robots' specific sound the moment they'd started firing.

Her wand appeared in her hand but she couldn't see any of the shooters. Harry was leading James and Olsen to the left and they were moving only slightly faster than Hermione and Ron in the middle. Neville, Arthur and Parker were not moving at all on the far right.

Ashley moved about ten feet to her left and saw a flash of metal in the first floor windows. Pointing her wand she yelled "_Impedimenta!"_ A white spell flew from her wand and somehow managed to hit the robot in the arm. The arm went flying back into the cabin leaving the robot shooting sparks. It stumbled for a few seconds and then fell backwards.

Ashley's smile was cut short as a second robot appeared in the window and began firing at her. She conjured a shield quickly but knew it wouldn't last. She'd have to come up with something else before she ran out of energy for the shield.

She noticed that Harry had created a large shield that James and Olsen were firing spells around. Harry was straining against the multiple automatic weapons.

Olsen's eyes exploded in shock and then he let out a gasp of pain before collapsing to Harry's left. He'd been hit. Harry tried to move but couldn't without exposing James. James seemed to double his efforts and hit the lower window with a _reducto _spell. The entire window collapsed but from that distance Ashley doubted the robot itself would be hurt.

The robot firing at her diverted its fire to Harry's group and she was able to move slightly. Movement to her right caught her eye as Minerva fell to the ground clutching her wand shoulder. Hermione managed to move her group far enough to join forces and combine the shields.

Ashley arrived at her father's side just as James began to raise the dirt in front of him. It was slow work, but the plan was genius. The dirt would provide protection from the bullets without taking away a wand.

Hermione fell over in exhaustion but the group was saved as Parker raised herself long enough to reduce the window to ash and send the robot searching for cover. Ashley could tell that the guns were slowing down. They might be able to win this yet.

A gasp of pain came from next to Ashley. She turned to her right in time to see Zachariah buckle over and fall back, clutching his stomach.

Rage burned inside Ashley as she turned back toward the cabin. She let loose a yell that caused even the robots to pause for a moment. She pointed her wand at the ground and brought it up into the air. The ground quaked and then rose in a five-foot tall wall of rock that bent to cover each of the three groups of people. As she slumped behind the wall, she saw a green spell come from the cabin and hit the wall in front of Harry, James and Olsen. If the wall hadn't been there at exactly that time…she wasn't sure what would have happened.

She looked down at her father while the others began to shut the windows with _reducto _spells. Her father's hand was bloody and he was covering a wound in his gut. But his eyes still had their fire. His eyes got wide and he sat up, pointed his gun over the wall and unloaded his clip. Ashley turned around just in time to see a human figure duck out of the way before Hermione closed the last window. Some robots were still able to fire from cracks in the wood, but it was much slower.

Hermione appeared next to them and she gently bent down, subtly putting an arm on Ashley's shoulder as she examined Zachariah's wounds. She took her arm off the shoulder and wiped away one of Ashley's tears as they fell.

"I don't know any of the healing spells," Ashley managed to say. "Can you do them?"

"I can," Hermione said. "But I don't promise anything."

Ashley looked into her father's eyes. His skin was already beginning to pale. "Try to summon the bullet out," Hermione said, getting into position to see inside better.

"You're going to be okay Daddy," Ashley said as she put her wand just over the wound. "_Accio bullet,_" she said gently. The bronze bullet flew directly out of the wound. Ashley caught it and flung it as far away as she could.

"You are so beautiful," Zachariah said. "You have your mother's eyes, you know." Ashley nodded and swallowed back a sob.

Hermione placed her wand on the wound and began a spell that was more song than anything. The would slowed its bleeding, eventually stopping all together, but it wasn't closing up. "The bullet played pinball in there," Hermione said. "I'm going to have to work on the vitals first. He's lost so much blood. He was at half strength anyway."

"Ashley, look at me," Zachariah said, his face strikingly pale.

"Yes Daddy," Ashley said. She placed her hands behind his head as a pillow.

"I'm so sorry," Zachariah said. His eyes were beginning to lose focus. "I'm sorry for everything. Please forgive me."

"I do Daddy," Ashley said. "Don't give up Dad."

"I shouldn't have abandoned you and John and your Mom," Zachariah said.

"You didn't," Ashley said. "I love you Dad."

Zachariah closed his eyes as a deep smile spread from ear to ear. "That is the greatest present you could ever have given me," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. His body became limp in her arms but the smile didn't leave his face.

"DADDY!" Ashley said. "No, no, no, no, no, no, Daddy please wake up. Please."

Hermione stopped singing and placed two fingers on Zachariah's neck. Neither breathed as she waited for a pulse. She let out a sigh and shook her head.

Ashley said nothing as she lowered her father to the ground, letting her tears fall freely. Hermione wrapped her arm around her again but made no motion to comfort her former student.

The two sat in silence for what seemed like weeks to Ashley before she finally became aware of bullet fire again. "What's going on with the others?" she asked, her gaze never leaving her father.

An explosion of cracking and breaking boards rang out from the cabin before Hermione could answer. Ashley slowly turned around.

A crater gaped in the wall of the cabin, and a body hung helplessly from what was left of the second floor, another body lording over him menacingly.

Ashley felt her eyes widen in fear of the worst. "Albus," she said.


	27. Chapter 26: To The Death

Review Comments:

ladyrayne13: Your review made me laugh so hard. Thank you!

Reader-anonymous-writer: First, you have the best name ever. That is great! I have responded to you via private message but I do hope you stuck it out to this point. Yes, the robots returned, but they were explained this time...Again, all reviews are extremely helpful as I try to improve my writing style.

Dannielle: Thanks for the ego boost! He is dead, but I did warn you...back in the Prologue. Albus is telling Charlotte the story of "how Granddad died." You were meant to think that was Harry, so you might not have been expecting that. Zachariah, now being known to Ashley and John, would not be able to stay out of their life and that would mean meeting Ashley's mother, who has already gone crazy from this (you may remember her from Part I: Chapter 3 of the last story). It's not better that he's dead, but maybe merciful? And I did let him hear one of his kids say they loved him. Finally, as a religion scholar, I don't think that ALL war boils down to religion (Civil War, WWII), but many of them have, including some of the worst of them (including many, if not all, since WWII. And most notably the Crusades). And further, a war like this could have no other reason that religion. I am glad to hear that it all made sense to you and that you're sticking around! Enjoy this duel...

* * *

Chapter 26: To The Death

Albus flexed his left arm and felt his reserve wand slide down his sleeve. A simple struggling movement let the short, black wand fall gently into his hand. He twisted the wand in his hand so it pointed at the door and thought _Muffilato. _Another twist and the wand was touching his right arm. He moved it slowly up his arm until it rested on one of the ropes tying his hand to the side of the chair. He thought _Diffindo_ and the rope split nicely in two, staying wedged between his boy and the chair. He shifted the wand to his right hand and repeated the process on his left hand.

A single rope was tied around his chest and he was able to aim relatively reliably at this rope. Thinking it couldn't hurt he said a quick prayer and thought _Diffindo _again. The rope severed and fell.

Quickly, he brought the wand around and cut the rope on his waist and lap before the four robots in the room could see him and get their weapons up. He bent forward as the first began to shoot at where his head had been, skillfully cutting his left leg free. By the time he fell on the ground, he was able to swing the chair around and start it toward the two robots to his right. Cutting himself free as close to full extension as he could reach, he sent the chair flying into the robots. He heard them fall down as he faced the two to his left.

One opened fire as Albus conjured a giant silver shield in front of him. The bullets ricocheted off the magically enforced shield and Albus sent if flying at the robots with the flick of his wand.

Turning around on the first two, he said "_Reducto!_" before they could get up. One of the robots crumbled to dust while the other got up. Albus quickly turned the wand on the other robot and it met its friend's fate.

Turning around he heard a robot get out from under the large shield and try to face him. A simple _Reducto _spell turned it to fine powder.

The last robot was still struggling under the awkward shield. Albus walked around until he could see the robot under the shield. He pointed his wand at it and yelled "_Expulso!_" He had just enough time to summon a force field around the shield and robot before the robot exploded. The shrapnel hit the shield and fell harmlessly to the floor.

Albus looked around and was relieved to find almost no damage to the nukes in the room. One of the sawhorses had been destroyed and a single weapon had been shot. Albus magically repaired both quickly and walked up the stairs out of the bunker.

He emerged into what appeared to be a large wooden cabin. A large living room, with minimal furniture, stretched out to his left. A hall continued to his right toward what appeared to be a kitchen. Albus heard movement to his left and began to move that way. He tripped over something on the ground and looked down to see a robot's disembodied shooting arm. Looking ahead he could see the rest of the robot lying motionlessly on the floor.

Another robot walked up to a window and began firing outside. Albus wasted no time in reducing it to ash. The window fell in on itself as the robot crumbled. Albus smiled: he wasn't aware he could do that.

Director Hawthorne's voice roared from upstairs and Albus set about looking for a staircase. He ran back through the hallway and into the kitchen, pulverizing a surprised looking robot that was making dinner. This robot had two hands and no visible weapon. Albus decided it must have been a servant bot.

Turning right he came to a dining room that was fully furnished for a dinner for two. Albus smiled wondering if the secretary from Rome was expected later that evening. There was fine china set in glass cases along the back wall of the room creating a stark contrast with the living room.

Albus turned right again and found a hallway to a grand entrance space. A staircase came down on Albus' left side. A cupboard could be seen under the staircase. A large front door had been shot through and a robot stood firing out of it.

Albus heard footsteps parading down the stairs as he unceremoniously dispatched the robot. The steps stopped as the robot crumbled to dust and then a long, black wand appeared over the edge of the steps. Albus just managed to blow open the cupboard under the stairs and get inside before a spell sucked all the air out of the hallway next to the stairs. Albus would have been immobilized by loss of oxygen, but the vacuum just shut the door to the cupboard.

He heard steps on a stair just on the edge of the cupboard. Pointing his wand at the stair he said "_Expulso._" The stair bulged under pressure and then exploded out. Albus heard a large something slam into the wall and slide to the floor.

Hawthorne roared in anger and ran past the cupboard into the dining room. Albus waited for a minute and then opened the door gently, silently heading into the hallway.

He looked around but couldn't see the Director anywhere. He set his back to the wall opposite the stairs just as he heard movement in the kitchen. Two robots rounded the corner and opened fire into the hallway; missing him for now. He reduced the first to ash. The second rounded on him and he sent a powerful blast of air at it. The air deflected the bullets into the wall and then sent the robot flying back. It bounced off the table and slammed into the cabinet full of china, breaking it all. Sparking, it slid down and didn't move.

"Face me yourself, Hawthorne," Albus yelled. There was no response.

Albus moved away from the dining room and turned back into the living room. Standing around the corner, he magically closed the door to the bunker till only a crack was left open. He took a breath and ran across the hall toward the couch on the far wall.

A green spell just missed him as he ran, the roar of death following behind. The spell hit the wall behind him and exploded, causing another window to collapse.

"I must say I'm impressed," Hawthorne said from the kitchen. "Where did the wand come from?"

"You forgot to disarm me," Albus said, slowly creeping toward the hallway.

"Liar," Hawthorne teased.

Albus was almost to the hall now. He breathed deeply again and put his wand around the corner. "_Stupefy!_" he screamed, rounding the corner.

Hawthorne stood behind the island, where the robot had stood preparing dinner. Albus' spell had clearly missed him. Every drawer was opened and the air around Hawthorne shined with knives and forks. At least thirty of each was circling around the Director, who stood smiling with his wand raised high in the air. "Hello, Potter," he said, bringing his wand down.

Albus just had time to summon a force field before the forks were on him. Most bounced off his shield, which took all his energy to maintain, and landed in front of him. But Albus was aware that some missed his shield and others hit so softly that they flew behind him. He couldn't stop them on both sides.

He pointed his wand at the light hanging over the island in the kitchen and yelled "_Expulso!_" The light bulb exploded in a shower of sparks and Hawthorne was forced to duck for cover, dropping the knives around him.

Albus turned and ran into the dining room, noticing that five forks were turned to face him just ten feet back. He positioned himself against the far wall from the kitchen and brought his wand up to face the kitchen.

Albus yelled "_Expelliarmus!_" as soon as the Director's head began to appear over the island, having cut down the light. The crimson spell raced across the room and hit the director in the chest before he could react.

Director Hawthorne's wand arced across the room and landed in the doorway between the two rooms. Hawthorne ducked and began to move toward it, but Albus wasn't going to play around. He pointed his wand at Hawthorne's and said "_Reducto._" The wand crumbled.

"It's over Hawthorne," Albus yelled. "Come out with your hands where I can see them. You're under - "

Albus stopped. The knives had raised themselves from the ground and were hovering menacingly over the island. The Director got to his feet behind the island and pointed a white wand at Albus. Albus recognized it as his own wand. "Nothing is over, Potter," Hawthorne said. He screamed and the knives launched themselves at Albus.

Albus waved his wand and fifty pieces of broken china launched themselves in the air and intercepted the knives. The china flashed around the dining room, staying in front of each knife, but it was taking way too much concentration to keep it up. And, Albus had no idea, what Hawthorne was doing. But the concentration needed to keep the knives going suggested he was still in the kitchen.

Albus let each knife get to a certain point before he'd intercept it with a piece of china, parrying each forcefully. A strike to the left; a block to the right. His feet were even going instinctively with his fencing. He had the advantage of numbers, but he was also on constant defense. And no one ever won a sword fight playing entirely on defense.

Albus stole glances around the room and noticed the glimmer of silver on the table. Albus smiled: the table was set. Albus flicked his wand and the two knives on the table jumped into the air and joined the fight. Albus flicked his wand again and the knives turned toward the kitchen and flew out.

Hawthorne's knives dropped as he ducked for cover and Albus took the opportunity to run. He was up the stairs, missing the one he'd destroyed, in record time.

The staircase opened into a large receiving area with five doors leading off of it. To the right were two small bedrooms that looked unused. In front of him was a bathroom. In the back left corner was a large office and in the front left was the master bedroom. Albus headed for the office.

Inside the office, he walked around a corner desk that had been turned so it extended into the room, exactly like the office in Whiteman. Albus crouched behind the desk, in front of a bookshelf with a couple of trinkets and nothing else on it. He waited there silently.

Hawthorne appeared at the top of the stairs looking hot with anger. Albus flicked his wand and the light in the master bedroom came on. Hawthorne's smile was wicked as he moved slowly toward the bedroom, turning his back on the office. He ran through the door, sending every spell in the book around the room. Albus saw at least three killing spells, one of which went out the window. Albus was kind of disappointed he wasn't in the room: it was still his wand. Two stunning spells also went around the room as well as at least five disarming spells. The speed at which the Director was going was truly impressive. The bedroom caught fire as the spells hit the sheets and random books lying around. Albus got up, springing his trap as some bullets flew past Hawthorne and into the ceiling. He pointed his wand at the Director's back.

An earthquake struck, almost knocking both him and Hawthorne down. As Hawthorne stumbled, he turned around.

Albus pressed the attack, firing spells as quick as _he _could, which was almost as fast as the Director had. The Director cast _Protego_, slowly backing into the burning room. Hawthorne's face changed to glee as he swatted a disarming spell aside and cupped his hand in front of him. The fire in the room gathered in his palm and then shot like a flame thrower at Albus.

Albus shouted "_Aguamenti!_" and jet of clear, blue water sprang from his wand and hit the flames. Steam filled the hallway in seconds and continued as neither duelist got a clear advantage. Albus watched as the doorway itself began to catch fire: the room wouldn't have much longer.

Causing a brief break in the water, he flicked his wand toward where he anticipated the bed to be. He caught the flamethrower again about two inches closer to himself and slowly backed into the office as he saw a king-sized flying, flaming bed sheet fly past the doorway. The sheet distracted Hawthorne and Albus flicked his wand toward where he thought the master bath would be and heard the sink turn on. As a bonus, the shower also turned on.

Albus heard the main door open violently as Hawthorne recollected the flames in his palm. Albus flicked his wand at the bathroom behind him and turned that sink on. He just managed to summon the water from the sink to his palm before the Director attacked. This time he sent short, thin jets of fire at him. Albus responded by larger, less stable jets of water, but they did the job.

Steam was filling the hallway with a think mist, but the bedroom was even thicker with an almost fog like veil. Hawthorne's face broke into a smile before it became completely invisible in the fog. Albus was sure he thought he could use the fog to his advantage, but Albus had no intention of letting him.

Albus shouted "_Glacius!_"

The fog froze into a thick white frost. The fire was doused immediately and the Director's stunned look was revealed as the frost drifted toward the ground.

A loud crack ripped through the air and a bookcase in the far corner fell through the floor. Another crack came as a corner of the bed itself fell. Cracks began to spread through the floor like spiderwebs.

Hawthorne ran for the door as what was left of the ceiling fell around him. Albus pointed his wand at the doorframe and yelled "_Reducto Omne!_"

An explosive crack rang out as the entire bedroom and half the hallway crumbled to tiny pieces. The Director jumped, dropping Albus' wand in the process, but just managed to grab a solid piece of wood before falling himself.

Albus stood over Hawthorne as he hung by his fingers, pointing his wand at the Director. He let his rage finally show on his face.

"Albus," his father's voice said next to him. He looked ever so slightly to his left and saw his father standing at the top of the stairs. His robes were bloody and singed, but he appeared fine. "Albus, don't do anything stupid."

"He killed millions," Albus said, not moving his gaze or his wand. "He deserves to die."

"He's unarmed, Albus," Harry said.

Albus said nothing as Hawthorne pulled himself up to where his head was over the floor. He managed to get an arm up. "You going to kill me?" Hawthorne asked. There was no fear in his voice.

Albus flicked his wand and a bright light flashed through the room.

Walter Hawthorne fell from view.

"Albus!" Harry screamed, starting forward. Then he stopped suddenly.

Albus slowly raised the Director who was now hanging in the open air by his ankle. "Walter Hawthorne," Albus said. "By the authority of the Ministry of Magic, you are under arrest."


	28. Chapter 27: A New Beginning

Review Comments:

ladyrayne13: Your reviews always make me smile :-) Thanks for the compliments.

Dannielle: Rest assured, Harry is safe...this time (muah ha ha ha). I really focused on making Albus powerful yet flawed and human and, most importantly, beatable. I felt that was not shown last time. I thought that was what was so great about Dumbledore, particuarly with what was revealed in Deathly Hallows. Thanks for following the story! You review as guest. If you have an account, I hope you follow this story so you can be notified in the distant future when a third comes out, which is probable.

A/N: This is the final chapter of the story. There is an epilogue which is comming in the upcoming days, so don't go anywhere just yet! I am trying to tie up loose ends here, but if there is anything that is not answered here, please leave a review so I can answer that question before the epilogue.

Thank you for reading this story,

tacobowler

* * *

Chapter 27: A New Beginning

Aviva Gray leaned wearily on a counter at a London suburban fire station where her ambulance was temporarily assigned. She was in the break room, watching the television where about thirty others had crowded around including Hughes. Though Hughes was now assigned to a different ambulance, she still counted him as a friend. There are some things you can't share without ending up as friends and driving around London for thirty hours saving people was one of them.

Harry Potter walked up to a large podium and motioned for silence. The break room obeyed. "Thank you all for coming," Harry said solemnly. "My name is Harry Potter. I'm the head of the magical police force in Great Britain. As such, I can understand if some of you don't trust me right now. I am only asking for the chance to prove the innocence of both myself and the entire magical world.

"Last night a threat was averted by the cooperation of magical and non-magical police forces. I am proud to say that the terrorist behind the attacks of the last week has been arrested and the weapons destroyed. A section of the Swiss Alps has been quarantined due to radiation and crews are there now working to make it safe for tourists again. We are hopeful that with magical help, it will be ready for the winter season.

"The terrorist was not Albus Potter but was in fact Walter Hawthorne himself. We have a confession to the crime; significant evidence placing Mr. Hawthorne with the weapons both as they were stolen and where they were stored. We also have evidence giving Albus Potter an alibi. For those who wish to believe that Mr. Hawthorne's confession was forced, the evidence will prove that Mr. Potter was in no shape to force one. He was tied to a chair without a weapon as Mr. Hawthorne filmed him in an attempt to strengthen the frame against him.

"We lost two men in the raid. One was a magical agent of nine years and a fine man named Matthew Olsen. The other was a veteran of the Secret Intelligence Service for over thirty years named Zachariah Johnson and had no magical blood in him. Both were heroes. Both will be honored. At family request, the bodies are being returned home without magical assistance. I am hoping that these men's sacrifice will begin to heal the relationship between magical and non-magical citizens.

"I would like to introduce the newly appointed Director of Scotland Yard, Mr. Seth Nguyen." Harry motioned as a man who was only vaguely Vietnamese joined him on the podium. It was clear his family had been in Europe for a long time, possibly since the fall of South Vietnam.

"Thank you," Nguyen said. "I would like to thank Mr. Potter for the cooperation we have received during this difficult case. Without magical help, I fear we would not have been able to stop Hawthorne's plan to destroy the capitals of most Western powers in order to incite genocide against a people who have validated their status as great people and fantastic citizens. I look forward to this new era of magical and non-magical cooperation. Now, with Mr. Potter's help, I would like to take you through what we know from the moment the weapons were stolen from Ft. Charles."

Aviva felt the pressure lift slightly from her chest. The world was reserving judgment on wizards for the moment. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all.

"Hey, did you hear what that hospital of yours is doing now?" Hughes asked, breaking away from the group and joining her on the counter. She was sitting on it now.

"No," she said.

"They've sent out their doctors; one to every hospital that will take them," Hughes said. Aviva decided against correcting him that they were in fact Healers. "Preliminary reports are that they are speeding up the process of healing about 200%."

"It's risky to do that," Aviva said. "Last time wizards were known in the world they were burned at the stake. To identify yourself like that takes guts."

"It took guts for you too," Hughes said.

"I'm not magical," Aviva said. "Besides, I was just doing no harm."

Hughes sighed. "I guess not all wizards are bad," he said.

"Most aren't," Aviva said. "You know, my parents were magical."

* * *

Albus pulled up to his driveway in the car John had provided at the airport. John had met the plane carrying Zachariah and Matthew at the airport. He and Ashley had taken Charlotte and accompanied Zachariah out of the airport while Albus headed home to try and rest. He felt they needed some time. He unlocked the door, with the key, and opened it.

Instinctively he pulled his wand as soon as the door was open. He knew that the house would be damaged from James' duel but he still felt like something was wrong. He walked slowly in the room and noticed a person sitting on the couch. He turned on the person as quick as he could.

The man looked to be in his late forties or early fifties, slightly overweight with brown hair mixed with gray. He sat comfortably with the wand pointed at him. His brown eyes were fixed on Albus and he grinned as if enjoying himself. "Welcome home, Mr. Potter," he said.

"Who are you?" Albus asked without removing the wand.

"Sir Kempton Wood," he said. "Head of Protection Command; Royalty Division."

"Why are you here, Sir?" Albus asked.

Wood stood up. "His Majesty has requested a conversation with you," he said. "I'd advise you oblige." Albus stood still for a long time. "I wouldn't advise trying to fight," Wood said. "We had all day to set this up while we waited for you."

"We?" Albus asked.

"You think I was alone?" Wood asked. "I wouldn't be this calm if I didn't have backup hidden here. Now, are you going to stand up the King?"

Albus put down his wand. "Anything for the King," he said.

"Great," Wood said. "I'll take your wand then."

"What?" Albus asked.

"No weapons will be allowed next to the King," Wood said. "Your wand please."

Albus turned the wand and handed it to Wood.

"The other one too," Wood said. Albus looked at him innocently but eventually drew his reserve wand and handed it to him. "Thank you," Wood said. He pocketed the wands and motioned for Albus to lead him out the door. Albus smiled and pulled the muggle gun that he'd begun wearing on the way back. He'd discovered the benefits of an extra weapon. He flipped it around and handed it to the surprised Wood. Albus chuckled and grinned as he walked out the front door.

An hour later Albus sat on a motorboat with Wood, two other men and one woman who also claimed to be Royal Protection. The boat was motoring up the Thames toward what used to be London. A pang of guilt came across Albus: he hadn't been fast enough to prevent this.

"Should we be worried about radiation?" Albus asked.

"If we were down wind, maybe," Wood said. "London's weather has moved all the radiation in the air and the current took most of it down river. We'd still be registering trace radiation though if it wasn't for the cooperation of your magical government. They've been working overtime removing radiation. Apparently they're able to do that."

The boat rounded a bend and Albus was finally positive of their destination. The Tower of London looked different than Albus remembered, but then again Albus had seen it last after the massive battle of London. The magical one. They'd repaired the tower after the battle but it wasn't quite the same.

"Nervous?" Wood asked, studying Albus' face.

"Most wizards who entered here didn't leave," Albus said.

"That's true," Wood said mysteriously. He turned back toward the front. The boat slowed and eased into a large black semicircular gate. The gate was open, which was rare.

The boat docked and Albus' escort led him into the large keep known as White Tower. They entered a large receiving room where they were met by five more agents. After they were satisfied that Albus was no threat, they led him into a large dining room.

The King sat at the head of a large, antique table. While the table could seat twenty easily, Albus was led to a seat three chairs down from the King. Albus bowed to the King and held.

"Please sit," King William V said. Albus rose and sat in silence. His escort sank into the walls, present but invisible. "I suppose you are wondering why I summoned you here," King William said.

"Yes, Your Majesty," Albus said.

"Well, it seems that you recorded your conversation with Walter Hawthorne and someone thought it wise to blast that conversation throughout my office. As a result, you have been pardoned of all wrongdoing. I thought you'd like to know that," the King said.

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Albus said. "If I may, your Majesty could have done that anywhere. Why the Trader's Gate?"

"Dramatic effect," His Majesty said. "I like dramatics. Plus, Walter Hawthorne destroyed Buckingham Palace, which forced me to my Castle here. Trader's Gate was an entrance that made some sense time wise as well."

"I'm sorry your city was destroyed," Albus said.

"It was your city too," the King interjected.

"True," Albus said. "Still, I hope you don't paint all wizards because of that man's actions."

"The world wanted to, until your actions yesterday," the King said. "Now it seems they are reserving judgment. A lot will depend upon your actions over the next few years, but perhaps more will depend upon ours. How the non-magical leaders respond to this crisis will be vital. Hawthorne knew that. That's why he maintained his position in muggle leadership.

"Personally, I have no desire to see a civil war in my country. Yet, it seems that a government has been operating inside my country without a liaison between it and myself. I have had no way to send messages to them and, more importantly, they have not been able to send them to me. That needs to change."

"Your Majesty?" Albus asked.

"I'm appointing you Royal Ambassador to the Ministry of Magic," King William said.

Albus sat stunned. He started several responses without finishing any of them before finally getting out "Surely there are other, more qualified, more worthy choices."

"There are others. More qualified, yes. More worthy, no," the King said. "It is my understanding that this is the second time you have saved the world. Anyone can fulfill the actual work involved in the position but only you can be the symbolic savior we need."

"But, all aids to His Majesty are - " Albus began.

"We'll take care of that soon," the King interrupted. "If you accept of course."

"It would be an honor, Your Majesty," Albus said.

"No, the honor is mine," the King replied.

* * *

Two days later, Albus stood in his best clothes on a makeshift podium at the end of a wide boulevard. The street was one of the few that was undamaged in London. To his immediate left stood Percy Weasley in royal blue dress robes. To his right, King William V stood regally in military dress uniform.

The streets were lined twenty deep with British citizens wanting to experience the spectacle. Albus felt a surge of irritation. His friend and father-in-law was deserving of the hero's treatment but Albus thought he'd want his funeral to be significantly less public. Albus found Minerva Parker and his brother standing next to each other in the front row and his anger eased slightly. Even with magic, Minerva's arm was going to be in a sling for a few days.

Albus heard the drums before he saw the procession. British Red-Coats marched three wide down the boulevard. Each column was the same, drum first followed by four rows of soldiers with their weapons reversed. Then the caskets came. Each casket was draped with the Union Jack and was carried by six pall-bearers. Zachariah's was to Albus' left, in front of Percy. Matthew's was to his right in front of the King. Ashley and John led four other magical pall-bearer's carrying Zachariah's casket. Six muggles carried Matthew's. Three more rows of soldiers followed the caskets.

The procession came fifty feet from the podium and stopped. The 21 soldiers raised their weapons and pointed them in the air.

The drums struck once and the first row fired their blanks.

A second drum and a second shot.

A third.

Fourth.

Fifth.

Six.

Seventh.

Silence hung in the air long after the guns stopped. Then the King gave the order for the men to stand down and their weapons returned to their reversed positions. Soldiers stepped up to each casket and removed the flag. They folded the flag slowly and methodically half by half. Then one soldier turned and presented the flag to families standing on each side of the street. Matthew's flag was presented to his widow and his two sons. Zachariah's flag was presented to Ashley's mother. If anyone noticed that she'd been receiving pensions for years when her husband was alive, they didn't say anything.

Tables were brought out and the caskets were set upon them. Then the King got behind a podium to give his speech. Albus had practically written the olive branch speech and didn't even pay attention.

* * *

A month later, Albus' life had just begun to become normal again. He'd started to build new relationships that were useful in his new post. Ashley was very happy to have him working in a less dangerous position. But today he was standing with his brother and uncle Percy preparing for the second most important ceremony of his life. The room was an elegant room in Kensington Palace, the King's home before he was King. It was outside the blast zone. He looked in the mirror and adjusted the finest set of dress robes he could find.

"I still don't understand why you have to do the robes thing," James said. "Muggle suits are so much nicer."

"I've been appointed ambassador to the Ministry of Magic," Albus said. "I'm wearing magical clothes."

"Well said," Percy said. He was wearing his own robes spectacularly.

"It's time," an aid said, opening the room's door only long enough to say the words. Percy left to take his seat with the small crowd who would witness the event live. Cameras would broadcast it around the world.

James walked with Albus to the doors to the throne room but left him there to take his own seat. Sir Kempton Wood met Albus at the door and nodded to him. A crackle over a radio told him to open the door and Albus got his first glimpse of the room.

The Royal Crest hung over twin thrones at the end of a long, carpeted aisle. Pew-like rows of chairs were set up and filled with about a hundred selected individuals. Ashley and John sat in the front row and Ashley was sporting the first smile she'd had since her father had died. Albus smiled back.

The Duchess of Cambridge stood next to the King in front of the thrones. The King was in full ceremonial uniform and the queen was wearing a light purple dress that made her as stunning as she had been on her wedding day. Catherine hadn't lost anything since then.

Albus walked slowly down the aisle, keeping his eyes locked on King William. The King gave him the slightest of smiles to encourage him to continue. He arrived at the front of the aisle and stood at attention in front of the King.

"Albus Severus Potter, kneel," the King said. Albus kneeled on a small stool in front of the King. The King pulled a sword and raised it in front of him. He tapped Albus with the sword on his right shoulder and then on his left.

Then, following his personal precedent, King William V said "Arise, Sir Albus Severus Potter."


	29. Epilogue: The Sorting Hat

Review comments:

ladyrayne13: Thank you so much for all your reviews throughout this story. They have kept me going. I wait for that email saying you've reviewed with just as much baited breath as you wait for the one to say I've posted! Those parts gave me tingles when I read them too...and I wrote them! I really want to continue going with this story, but I think I'd ruin it. From the shameless plug department: I've got other stories for Percy Jackson and the Olympians if you've read that series. And if you haven't read that series, you should! (and then read my stories ;) ). My semester is over so I may be looking for things to read if you have your own shameless plugs...

DannielleBlack: Dannielle (guest) reviewed, but I'm assuming that you're one and the same. Thank you also for your reviews, they've been a very welcome addition during the stretch run. Thank you also for reading both stories! I agree that Albus more than deserved the knighting. This story stemmed from another "what if...?" namely what if the Statute of Secrecy was broken so badly that it couldn't be covered up. It is indeed sad how far out of the muggle world muggle borns and their parents have to go when they get their Hogwarts letters. If you ever do put out some of your own work, do let me know. And thanks for following and favoriting me and the story.

A/N: Well, this is it...for now. As has been posted on my profile, I'm planning a third story in this line but it is still in the very rough stages. All I know is that it will involve those bodies that kept falling out of the closets. That's why I never really tied up that loose end, hope it wasn't too loose for you! As with all my stories after the crossover I'm currently working on, I'll write the whole thing before I publish anything. This means that you have a long wait before chapter 1 but that the chapters will come as quickly as they did for this story. It will either be an "Albus Potter and the..." or a "Charlotte Potter and the..." story. I haven't decided yet. There will be a chapter posted to this story to notify anyone who follows this story that the sequel has been posted so you don't have to keep checking here.

With that, do enjoy!

* * *

Epilogue: The Sorting Hat

Charlotte Potter sat down in a corner of the Hogwarts Express. She'd tried to avoid sitting in a compartment with her brother and had wound up with a geeky seventh year instead. The seventh year had offered to help her unclog her wand. He'd insisted that it would help her in charms class.

She took out her brand new quill and ink set and began writing her first letter home of the year. The train was always something to look forward to, but it was also that weird place between homes. She knew that she was homesick for London but she was also homesick for Hogwarts. It was a weird feeling that few other students could experience. Normally Hogwarts was significantly better than home. Charlotte, however, could visit the Palace whenever she wanted at home.

_Dear Dad, _she began. She'd asked for the whole story as she left this train and it had taken the entire summer for her father to find enough time away from her mother to tell it. The search for time had almost been as exciting as the story itself and had made the two even closer.

_Thanks for telling me that story. I'm glad you thought I could handle it. I did have a question though. What happened with those bodies? Did you ever find out? You know I'll be asking during Christmas break so you'd better be ready with an answer! _

_ The Express is really boring compared to home, especially now that the Prince has graduated. But at least this year I'll have Regulus to keep me company. I hope you don't mind that I'm hoping he'll join me in Gryffindor. It would be much more difficult to tease him in Ravenclaw._

_ Some seventh year just offered to unclog my wand; whatever that means. I don't even think that would make the _Quibbler. _Ohh, Trolley just arrived. I gotta go._

_ Love, Charlotte_

Charlotte got a couple bags of Bertie Botts and sat back down to look over the note. She was happy with it, but thought it needed a little more teasing so she quickly added a postscript:

_ P.S. You wouldn't mind if I got a boyfriend this year right?_

* * *

A few hours later, she was clapping enthusiastically as the Sorting Hat ended his annual song and Professor Longbottom removed it from its stool.

"Angler, Jeffery," he said and a red haired boy walked up scared. The hat was placed on his head and he waited for a couple seconds before it opened its mouth and yelled "RAVENCLAW!" Smiling, the boy sat down at the Ravenclaw table.

Charlotte smiled as she thought how proud her father would be. She knew he'd been disappointed when she hadn't followed him to Ravenclaw but instead got sorted into Gryffindor. His only hope was standing nervously at the end of the group of first years now standing in the middle of the Great Hall. But Ashley and Charlotte had talked and both were confident he'd wind up with them. Almost all Potters were Gryffindors after all.

"Davis, Grace," Professor Longbottom said and a scared girl walked up to the hat. The hat wasn't even on her head when it yelled "HUFFLEPUFF!" The Hufflepuff table erupted in cheers as Grace ran toward it.

"Dillon, Rachel," Prefessor Longbottom said. A tall shy brunette walked up and took her seat on the stool. "SLYTHERIN!" the hat said after a minute. She walked confidently over to the Slytherin table.

Charlotte began to get impatient as the hat got through the L's.

"Malfoy, Neordell," Professor Longbottom said. A confident, tall girl with white blonde hair and sky blue eyes walked to the stool and the hat was placed on her head. Surprisingly, it took a minute before the hat yelled out "SLYTHERIN!" That was an eternity for a Malfoy.

"Olsen, Hector," Professor Longbottom said. Murmuring slithered through the room as the son of the national hero stepped to the stool. The hat was placed on his head and everyone waited with baited breath. Finally the hat opened its mouth and yelled "GRYFFINDOR!" Hector looked relieved as he took his seat. Charlotte stopped him from sitting next to her. That seat was reserved for her brother.

She could feel the excitement in the air as they approached the P surnames. Everyone knew that Albus' Potter's son was being sorted this year.

"Patil, Sharvi," Professor Longbottom said. The granddaughter of Pavati Patil walked quickly to the stool and was sorted into Hufflepuff. The Hufflepuff table downright exploded: they rarely got a celebrity first year.

"Potter, Regulas," Professor Longbottom said. The room fell silent as the red haired son of Albus walked to the stool. He sat and Professor Longbottom put the hat on his head.

They began to wait and the excitement was almost more than Charlotte could contain. Any minute now, her brother would join her in Gryffindor. The look on Regulus' face indicated that he was arguing with the hat but so far there was no decision made.

The wait passed three minutes and Charlotte officially became nervous. The hat never took this long unless it was trying to decide between multiple houses. Or the student was arguing with it. She desperately wanted to know what was going on in her brother's head.

Four minutes and no one had talked. Charlotte straightened the silverware at her brother's seat next to her. She tried to give him an encouraging look but his eyes were tightly shut.

Five minutes. Regulus Potter was officially the first hatstall in twenty years. Finally the hat's mouth opened.

The hat seemed to play on the anticipation in the room. Charlotte could almost see it grin before it screamed out:

"SLYTHERIN!"

END OF ALBUS POTTER AND THE REVELATION


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